Windows

Windows have a soul too.

They talk to me about their owners.

Whether they prefer the light to the dark,

Or the sun to the moon.

Whether the people inside are scared,

Or recklessly brave, or if they sing

Loudly or hide in the shade.

If they sit still or move aimlessly,

Looking for adventures outside.

If there is laughter or strife.

Love in the bedroom or 

Sitting side by side, typing away.

I look at windows and the people inside.

Sometimes I see their soul,

Restless, tired and on the verge of escape.

Sometimes only the window,

And the hollow sound of air.