My bedside window
is pretty useless.
It doesn't offer a picturesque view;
just the sight of the neighbor's plain wall
that's built really close.
So close that
I could hammer a nail into it
through my window
and call it my own.
The wall's shadow
is its only offering to my room.
With great difficulty,
bouncing off this wall,
the last few rays of sunlight
manage to enter my room:
enough to wake my body up
but not my soul.
Despite all its shortcomings
my window still bears
a serene white curtain.
No light to control.
No human gaze to protect my privacy.
It is as futile as
dressing the dead
in new clothes.
Yet I make sure
the curtain stays on.
This has baffled my family
and friends.
Well, I have a reason.
Occasionally
the window lets in some breeze -
tickling the curtain,
setting it in motion.
Isn't it my duty to safeguard
this little love story?