I gazed into the window,
Looking at the wide grey meadow,
Covered by a dense layer of grass,
Composed of sorrow.

I couldn’t help notice the ebony atmosphere,
That hung in the sky creating fear,
Desperate enough to cause a pluvial.
I weakly held onto my heart with a steer.

The tenderness of the moonlight,
That spread around with delight,
Was the only positivity
That proliferated bright.

A serene nightingale flew by,
Whose mellow voice nurtured me.
It travelled through my heart,
Stitching the wounds with hope gently.

As the thread was woven together,
I felt myself for the first time in forever.
I could finally see a lost route,
That I could gradually remember.

I strolled forward following my route,
With confidence that was absolute.
I looked up to my sky,
Seeing the grey clouds distribute.

As I strolled, I reached the shore,
Upon which the smoky waves tore.
It was a sight of dismay,
At how dull the ocean was at its core.

Grey clouds were a harbinger of downpour.
I eagerly waited to see more,
Of what this window had in store.
For all I saw was a little brown eye,
That showed me, my soul.