I Hate That Window

It conceals the blue-laden sky 
 Like a mirror;
 Searching into the depths of silver  
 Painted on its back
 A quest for a soul and perhaps more
 To be savoured by spiritless self
  Shall it find me, standing there 
 Awaiting the bleak blank of blue
 A sight for the heavens or perhaps azure
 To be prayed out of pique

 I stare at the dark parchment
 That is glued;
 The window ate the ceiling fan
 Hanging by the roof
 Just some time before it comes for you
 Takes up sorrow, grants nothing new
 Will you be happy, asks window
 I shake my head in disdain
 The water would flow despite stones in path
 You took my sorrow in vain

 Then, it stood there like inanimate
  As if dead;
 The graveyard of which is storeroom
 That lay in dark
 A part of world that stood far, aloof
 Filled of things from my past
 There is this window in between
  I lean on it and speak
 Absence of grief is not glee, glazed being
 The sky is, let me peek 

 It shuddered its metal beams subtly
 Like a prison;
 The bars that hold one in
 Separating this from that
 One, the world of dark while the other
 a room of existence in present  
 “the sky is on your side”
 Said the window that was covered
 With black parchment to hide relics of time
 Then it went silent forever

 I turned and looked to find
 If it was;
 The blue that i longed to see
 Vast firmament of gaiety
 To astonishment i hoped to deny, it was
 The sky