2.1. From my Window

From my window I can smell the world
carried on the summer breeze
and though my sight ends
on a large brick wall,
from my window I can smell the world
and I can envision it all.
The morning sun
has dried my eyes
which has wept such bitter tears.
The night was long
and cold as hell,
but the light is soothing warm.
Not far below me, in its nest,
a bird takes flight once more,
as the morning sun
dries my tears
and I get up,
and go.
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