I LOVE MY WINDOW

I like to feel the air coming through my window like knocking on the door of my soul.

I love my window.

It is mostly open, except when it is 40 below.

I love my window.

I like to look at it every morning when the first ray of sun is on my face.

I love my window.

There is a smooth ray that hits my closed eyes and gently, as the air touches my cheeks, wakes me up inviting me to watch the newborn day for the first time.

I love my window.

There is a smooth ray, which cautiously and naively come to me through the family of trees that guard my sleep, and gives me the most simple but beautiful proof of the existence of God.

Whom else could have created such a delicious view?

I love my window.

Then I sigh and I desire to have the day just to watch.

Just to watch the leaves coming down,

the air getting heavier and then also coming down,

the birds singing and then flying away,

the smell of the Earth that changes with every minute,

the sun rising from the bottom of the mountains, while it gets mature on the top and dies again at the bottom with the moon as a witness.

Oh the moon!

The moon who also visits my window from time to time

and dances with me, while my dreams sing the melody of my inner voice.

I love my window.

Maffy Malaver