Framed Views

Years have passed since I last glanced through

that cracked window, peeling frame holding memories,

now dust gathers like ghosts of the past,

a view faded, as the world outside shifts

with every breeze that whispers through trees.

The scent of rain pulls me back through time,

when sunlight poured in, illuminating

the messy threads of a childhood tapestry,

while laughter swirled like leaves in the air.

Once, my gaze traced the horizon's outline,

marveling at the stories beyond my reach,

now I sit and stare at shadows on walls,

hoping to catch a glimpse of what was once,

this window, a portal to dreams that faded

like colors on an old photograph,

the memory of a view that now feels

as distant as the clouds rolling in.