The Windows


A soft rumble from the ceiling fan
and casual screams, now and then, from the cars,
passing by through the road below,
were merged into the symphony of rain.
The young night had not become too dark yet,
for here the city life was still awake
within the cozy concrete walls
and the colored glass on their windowsills
were still glowing with fluorescence,
somewhat fading the darkness around.
Then across that faded darkness of the night
I saw the windows hosting various plays,
each with a unique set of casts and crews
and a different tale to tell;
yet all the dramas that were put on show
felt similar with the same core inside.

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