It watches.
It waits.
The sun rises.
Fly away pretty bird.
Take a chance
And spread your wings.
It watches.
It waits.
The sun rises.
Fly away pretty bird.
Take a chance
And spread your wings.
Darkness enters my room
in shades of midnight blue.
It breathes its cold breath
on my warm, sleeping face.
It wakes me from a dream
of blue cascading waves.
Instead, I am faced with the dark
and a hollow feeling inside.
Who opened my window?
Who let in the dark?
She stands at the window.
Age dares not to defy her.
Night bring her comfort.
Darkness, her only friend.
Her light flickers and fades.
She waits for you to come home.
A window to the world.
A window to beauty.
Snow-capped mountains.
Swan-filled lakes.
The pounding waves of the ocean.
Fields of flowers.
Adventure.
Romance.
Mystery.
Open your mind
to the possibilities.
Wake your senses.
Can you feel the sea breeze?
Can you smell the flowers?
Can you hear the seagulls’ cries?
Can you taste the salty air?
I can.
I gaze from my window
and what do I see?
A storm growing in force
and coming for me.
Death comes to town.
It has its own name.
The one that I know
is called The Dead Game.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
Source:iliketheseshots
One window among many.
One window to the world.
Watching the darkness.
Alone.
Waiting.
Open to the darkness.
Waiting for something.
Or someone.
It watches.
It waits.
The sun rises.
Fly away pretty bird.
Take a chance.
Spread your wings.
From my small, bedroom window
I watch as the white clouds drift by,
Shadowing the world below.
Puffy cotton balls in the sky.
I see men
Walking
In the cold
Coming closer to my home.
Snow swirls around them.
Feet crunch on ice.
Four of them.
Why are they here?
Four men.
The window mists from my breath.
It fogs my view.
I must run.
I must hide.
Four men.