Through The Window
My name was coming, from my window,
I wanted him to retreat and collapse.
The simplest desires have been looked at,
Sewing thoughts for several people.
My window and door carried hard steel,
Mahogany seemed the best work.
Disinterested and crazy, the people through
The door were feminine and masculine.
My names count themselves with luck,
It has arisen from the heart and mind.
My windows and door shall be a war of homes,
Still the watching of outsiders is strong.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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