Through glass window

I sit in an empty room crowded
So many bodies accumulated
Perfumed with bad breath and
Memories swarming in the horizon
I see them through the glass
I see them through the window
A single window, a prisoner of
The dark room
The mind that conjures images past.

March 14, 2019

Advertisements

About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
This entry was posted in c’est la vie and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s