I look up from my bed to see the sky through the ceiling window.
It looks bright blue with a hint of sun.
But I get to wondering how it must feel,
always looking up against your will.
You'd start to get an ache in your neck,
and you'd start to see spots from how bright the sun is.
Your head would start to hurt.
Your body would be stiff,
and your tears would run down your neck.
But the window keeps looking up,
not a hint of dread.
I wonder how they do it,
always looking up,
having the idea that something will come.
I wonder how.
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Author:
A.N. (
Offline) - Published: August 22nd, 2026 07:34
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Fränz Müller
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Comments2
A marvelous approach to what I take as a criticism of those that choose not to see what lies around them. This might be overly religious, the arrogant that walk with their nose in the air or just plain air heads. A wonderful read.
Thank you so much! I love hearing how other people interpret my writing, and I really appreciate your perspective. It means a lot that you took the time to read it and share your thoughts!
You are very welcome it is my pleasure.
That window is something to aspire to, perhaps!
Indeed!
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