The window in the room where the poets played (a poem)

It’s double-shot Friday, I guess. Probably because of that second cup of coffee…

Here
at the table
next to the window
the light is dim
throwing shadows everywhere

Night
waits at the window
for silence to return
when people sleep
and only the rain still stirs

The vase
on the windowsill
is happy
it has a friend
when the lights go out

They don’t see much
but they are together
there’s not much more to ask for
when you’ve got your friend
beside you

Here
at the table
next to the window
the light is out
sleeping to the sound of the rain

the window in the room where the poets played

(6 February 2015)