Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Still There

I look outside my bedroom window into the otherness of the suburbs.
I pretend that I am in the wild as I hear the song of the unknown birds.

I look outside my bedroom window and see that the cars are alive.
I close my eyes and breathe in the air tainted with city smog.

I look outside my bedroom window and see roofs, backyards, light post.
I feel the sadness of the passing pigeon, as winter’s cold is prolonged.

I look outside my bedroom window and curiosity gets the good of me.
Then I catch the eye of a staring bird, is it accusing me or do I see a plea?

I look outside my bedroom window and I laugh to myself.
Nature, such beauties, such grace, anywhere I go I still can believe.

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