The Window

August 13, 2009
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He was like the prince
And I the serf
I was nothing to him
I was the shadow he saw
When he looked out of the window
I was the hum of an echo
Through the mountains
A lingering being
But to me
He was hope
He was the bright light shining out of the window
I spent all day looking inside
And everyone once in a while
As an afterthought
He would glance out
And see little more
Than pure emptiness

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