I’m not locked down anymore
But sometimes I feel locked in
Locked into myself
I wonder who my neigbours are
They know I’m a stranger
What if they find out
I write poetry
How strange then will they think me?
Why do I make up stories about my neighbours
Who actually seem pretty friendly?
Perhaps it’s because I’m a stranger here
Like the ‘extravagant and wheeling stranger
Of here and everywhere.’
Destined to forever gaze upon beautiful views
Out of successive windows
Written for dVerse poetics: Looking out of the Window