Rectangular

Pieces of glass,

Seemingly only functional as a filler

To the cavity in my wall,

Yet, much more you are.

You're the gatekeeper allowing the sun to journey

Through and caress my eyes as

The sun arise

And I awake on a schedule.

You are the looking glass of temptations,

The escort in lingerie,

Simply teasing and not allowing a

Touch

What's on offer,

I acknowledge you, and appreciate

The moments you inspirate

For you're the wardrobe

And you've gifted me Narnia,

Comprised of prohibited escapades

And midnight munchies.

It seems as if I’m entitled to your many

Offerings, for I’ve only concealed you behind

Those dead hanging corpses we’ve named

Curtains.

Ironic how I deny you, and still

I would have a prison cell instead,

if it wasn't for you,

that window on that fourth wall,

In that third room,

in that 98th mobile home,

So plainly there,

yet so intricately significant

To me.