The Window And Me

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Felicity Buirski's Official Web Site Interior Design

The Window And Me


The cold wet windows means winter is come.

The days grow short, the nights grow long.

And why this should come as a terrible blow

this particular year I really don't know.


But when I drew back the curtain expecting to see

the usual sight of the sun through the trees;

there was just this mist on the window,

and the window

and me.


And there was nowhere to go

and nowhere to run -

just an ice cold dawn and a piercing sun,

and a terrible mist

and me.


And I saw that all through my twenties

my heart it did ache.

And not till my thirties

did I see my mistakes.


Like when I was barely walking -

I could've sworn I was flying.

And when I was barely breathing -

I had no vision of ever dying.

And when we swore that our love

was "forever, undying"

I didn't have a clue

that both of us were lying.


I fell prey to it all

so sure that I was the Hawk.

And that I knew Life.

Oh, I knew Life!

I knew Life not at all.


But there was nowhere to go

and nowhere to run -

just an ice cold dawn and a piercing sun

and a mist that was starting to clear.


And I saw my young years rush by me

like a faithless friend,

and I turned and cried out

too late in the end.


Not to forgive or try to recapture

but just to talk about careless rapture.

Like when I was almost blind

I could've sworn I saw clearly.

And what I thought was for free

I was paying for dearly.

And whatever I was given in the name of love,

I'd take it as though it came on the wings of a dove.


I fell prey to it all -

so sure that I was the Hawk,

and that I knew life.

Oh I knew life!

I knew life not at all.


Still there's nowhere to go

and nowhere to run -

just an ice cold dawn

and a piercing sun,

and a mist that's almost gone.


And now I can see.

Now I can see

that life was the Hunter

all along!


Still there's nowhere to go.

and nowhere to run -

just an ice cold dawn and a piercing sun,

and a mist that's completely gone.


And the sun has risen high above the trees,

which look very black without any leaves.

No sign of the Hawk.

No sign of the Hunter.

Just the world as it is

and me.


© Felicity Buirski 1989.