Through Their Window Poem by Mary Champion

Some see a path that winds through the trees,
some see the rocks and the storm-tossed seas,
some see the cows that graze on the lea,
some see the boats that are moored by the quay
through their window.

Some see the sunshine, some see the rain,
some see the frost on the frozen pane.
Some see the children at play in the street,
down in the basement they only see feet
through their window.

Some see their neighbours making their way
to work or back home at the end of the day.
Some see the traffic polluting the air,
heedless of people who're just sitting there -
passing the time as they wait all alone
for tea with a friend or a chat on the phone,
by their window.

Some see the bustle of the hurrying throng
shopping and hustling the whole day long.
Most see a world they are free to explore-
all they need do is to open the door.
But some just see bars and a small patch of sky
and all they can do is to wish they could fly
through their window.