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Post by lavishly on Sept 25, 2018 13:41:35 GMT -5
I see you out my window, And I wonder about your life. Who do you love, Who are your family, friends? What is your job, What are your hobbies?
I see you out my window, And I wonder what makes you, you. How can your world be so alive, Yet not even touch mine?
I see you out my window, And I imagine that we're friends. That our lives collide in a perfect array of colors. That we are different, but the same.
I see you out my window, But you don't see me.
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Post by Redfleck on Sept 25, 2018 16:21:09 GMT -5
It's a relatable poem. Simple, short, innocent. I like how your ending couplet contrasts with the rest of the work, like you're expecting more but it cuts off abruptly—similar to how one might look out the window at a passerby and wonder about their life, only to have the moment cut short as they amble out of view.
Is it bad that I read your signature, "And you can take that to the bank," as the last line of your poem?
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Post by lavishly on Sept 25, 2018 18:18:08 GMT -5
Thanks for the thought. I'm glad that you found it relatable. It's a huge compliment, so thank you.
hmmm, no. It adds a bit of nonchalant... Or it means I'm looking out a bank window the whole time.
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