Sunday morning’s window



Probably is not the best view that you had seen in your life, there are not palms, beach, or nature but is a peaceful view. Is what I see from my window in my flat in London and I love in the sunday morning prop my elbows on the wondowsill so have my coffee while I’m scanning on the nowhere.


In a light fog spit little drops of rain. The air is breezy and from a far church the bell are ringing surrounded the area.

Some catholic is walking forward the church, a mother is cooking breakfast for the family, a couple are having sex, a boy is back home from a rave party, but I’m not.


I’m inspiring to read the poem wich I wrote on my mind and that will never write out. I dream about my future, I’m planning my day, I get out my family memory and sometimes a tear drop get down my face.

Is a special place where there is some kind of positive vibration, in fact sometimes on the roof top opposite my window a man spend his time in the lotus position to meditate. But not today.


The birds chirping when a fox run and the squirrels jump by gardens or climbs the ancient bricks of the walls.

The bells are stopped to ring, my coffee has gone and I forgot my poem.

I’m waiting next sunday where will be a new day to write it again and probably to lose myself once more.


One thought on “Sunday morning’s window

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