Perched upon the Window Sill- a poem

I’m not much of a poet. I’ll be the first to admit I have no great joy in either studying or performing this medium of expression. I like writing poetic prose, but that’s about it. Nonetheless, I was asked by a friend to write a poem after she heard me say the phrase “Perched upon the Window Sill” in reference to a boy in our class who was refusing to sit anywhere but right at the window, looking out. It made me think back to my bedroom in France, where I would sit and look out at the streets, reflecting on life and other things. I considered writing a sonnet in honor of my Shakespeare class that inspired me, but I felt in the mood for free-verse. So here is my mildly pathetic poem dedicated to my blogging friend.

Perched upon the Window Sill

I sit there perched upon the window sill

Gazing out at the desolate street

Cafes closed up

Tables chained in uneven clusters

Rain glistens on the surface

Drops budding into puddles

Hinting at more to come.

The occasional footsteps echo on cobblestones

A shadowed figure huddled beneath an umbrella

Scuttles by into the gloom.

It’s a good day to be inside.

I am glad of the warmth

Tucked in my tiny chamber

A thick sweater shielding me

A pane of glass to protect me

Only my hand cold

Pressed upon the surface

Separating me from the rain.

This street is a different place

A new world

As though some dark spell has come upon our city

Sleeping Beauty’s enchantment

Quieting the streets.

I glance out and remember like a dream:

Sunshine

Laughter I can hear through open window

Tables full with families, friends

Sitting in the peaceful atmosphere

Of these calm French streets

But life is gone

They say rain brings life

Yet does it?

When all around me

Silence reigns

And people huddle and hide

Within the warmth of their comforting houses.

‘Tis not life.

These clouds steal voices and laughter

Take children from our streets

Replace merriment with sorrow

My eyes trace this familiar road

Curled on the window sill

Back braced against firm wood

Hands folded over knees

Curled in on self

Vulnerable

Alone.

I reflect on happier times

In streets

In life

Of other worlds that might be

Of deeper sorrows than rain

Droplets tap against the glass like fingers

I gaze out

Wondering.

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2 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Writing

2 responses to “Perched upon the Window Sill- a poem

  1. Allison Meade

    This is so great. I love it! You took something funny from class and made it beautiful!

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