The windows are wanting a dusting;
They can’t see a thing through the dirt.
And none but the birds are rejoicing.
Their view is a little bit hurt.
The windows are wanting a shower,
The grit and the grime piled high.
The birds who can’t see their reflections
Are keeping their gaze to the sky.
The windows are wanting a cleaning,
The curtains depressed in the gloom.
And carried on wings of the springtime,
The birds are suspecting their doom.
The windows are wanting their changes;
The birds, bless their buttons, confide:
“We don’t want our ending beginning
In windows that shimmer with pride!”
My attempt at anthropomorphism for Lillian’s prompt at
I’m not sure it hits the spot, but I’m proud of its poetics. 😮 Also a great one for NaPoWriMo day 4.