The Window Poem by Joeline Rayment

I am looking through a window
made of silk and coloured stone
my memory is hazy,
am I actually alone?

I cannot move my head
my gaze is fixed outside
lost in strange wonders
of a plastic countryside

I can hear a Bluebird trilling
its sweet vicious brutal song
There's a spider spinning whispers
telling me I must be strong

Theres a house thats made of faces
and another made of hands
A path that leads between them,
shifting multicoloured sands

Theres a dragon on a hillside
and a maple tree in bloom
and their both standing steady
somehow honest in the gloom

With shadows playing freely
on the ground and in the air
whom even in their darkness
sing a symphony so fair

Its all distraction really
all this dreaming memory
it may hold my attention
with its broken old story

Yet soon the window closes
the silk it rips and falls
the stone it shifts and melts
and its empty in these halls