Poetry Map of Scotland: poem no. 320

Windows Lit in the Evening
 
What are these houses about?
Why are they there at all?
And why when they turn on the lights
they close the blinds?
If you carefully peek through
there are people cooking
or resting
TVs on
confronted by empty couches
toys laid on the floor
coats, scarves carelessly hung somewhere.

Why are the people having windows looking to the fields
if they close the blinds at sleep?
What’s the view of their dreams
if not a valley
lit in the sunshine
and lit in the sunsets;
a topic to write about.

The mist is touching on the ground
harvesting the soil
growing itself to shapes of imagination
and hallucination
as they are seen
focused-less
behind steamed-up windows
underneath the numbing lights.

By the time sun breaks in
the ghostly figures will have disappeared
as they always do
leaving behind
hunted minds
moist land
and numb feelings.

Eleni Kotsira

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