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Poetry By
  Joseph Josephides

Published on: 3/3/2008
The Window

Stretch your hand and open the window,

maybe a sunbeam drops in,
in a zigzag way, by reflection,
maybe a star promising a change.

Open the window,

perhaps a person in rush drops a glance inside,
a beauty girl sprinkled by the rain,
a shallow mother who lost her baby.

Open the window,

maybe the ball of the children shows up
their voice perhaps climbs up
a bending branch, a kitten.

Open the window,

even if a wave of dust, of hail, invades,
a shadow or its shadow, two shadows in one,
or even a shadow shading another.

Open the window,

even if the city falls asleep,
even if the city passes away,
even if there is no sign which of the two.

Stretch your hand and open for us the window.

In its place there will be a painting
hanged, speechless staring at us.
At least it will fill our empty wall.

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