The windows show the view
Of hearts, of minds
Of houses or of eyes
They open outwards or inwards,
The light brings the other side
The windows also talk
The locks of the lips are opened
At night on the windows when a net of darkness is formed
So the ages speak in whispers from the abyss of pain
The windows are silent
Days of language, nights of indifference, endures persecution
Windows are the story of centuries of dreams
Evidence of walls, courtyards, dilapidated houses
In the forced sequence of time from eternity
The rustling of tiredness is a testament to the rusty times
The windows hold the heart of a woman
Fragrance, sunshine, rain, moonlight
With a gust of wind
Open to body seasons
Blown paper packer
Roll life into unique desires
When butterflies fly in front of windows
So of the memories in the glass-covered eyes
The afternoons get wet
Bulls laden with white and red flowers
When she covers them
So the evenings see the way of beautiful strangers
Fist fills the palms of the hands
Windows often insist on staying open
The blue sky, the clouds, the birds are amazed
Always keep it closed
They are afraid of breaking the breath of the rooms, the walls
Residents are afraid to leave
They also find life desolate, sadness runs to bite
Windows are human!
