the window

Some nights

I want to break free

and fly.

anywhere.
somewhere.
to where?

if I stretch my arms wide enough could I touch the edge of the sky and
trail my fingers through stars

sending ripples like the reflection of night in a lake's mirror surface

some nights

I wish I lived in a city just to lose myself in the hustle and bustle
and be anonymous for an hour or an afternoon

some nights this tender melancholy sings its song louder than
most nights     -and-

tonight I will sit and look up and let existence look back down.