Through a Curtainless Window

I see a man lying still

Swallowing a pill

In an unmade bed

So its obvious he’s not dead

He’s staring at the ceiling

So I guess he must be feeling

That he just needs some rest

The bed could be his nest

He has some books by his side

A face that he can’t hide

It’s quite a small room

Painted in gloom and doom

I wonder what’s on his mind

And what he’s left behind

He must be 80 odd years of age

Living in an open cage

I wonder if he still has friends

Or a desire to make amends

I Wonder what tales he’d tell

From his imaginary wishing well.

©JMN2023