My Window

Eclectic mixture of leaves stare back at me.

Blades of green grass scream for the lawnmower,

a silent cacophony.

Gravel path for my car to traverse,

one day paved, maybe.

Neighbors wave from across the street.

A gleeful scene,

serene.

My window paints a portrait of Americana.

Rockwell eat your heart out.

My window, is my world,

but if only a dream.

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