52 Cups of Poetry: Poem #2 : Near the Window

My brother discussed music on his blog this morning, which then caused interesting comments to pop up about the types of music we love and remember from our youth. You can find his post here.

When I was reviewing my collection of poetry I had written through the years this evening I came across the poem below. 

I now live next door to the room with the window. . My brother lives in our childhood home so I can still climb up the stairs, sit by the bed and look our the window. The stereo is gone, the old typewriter is gone, the Nancy Drew books are gone,but I can play that music on Pandora, search for poetry on my computer, use the flashlight on my phone, and read Nancy Drew on my tablet. I just might have to go next door and do that. 

However, I would rather do it like the old days.

Near the Window

 The lamp near the window glowed long into the night,

the wonder of words kept me turning the pages.

Curling up with Nancy Drew, Bess, and George

created a life of intrigue and mysteries to be solved.

Finding poetry at the public library and saving words

as I hunted and pecked on the manual keys.

The stereo filled the hall room with beautiful sounds.

I wore out certain songs as I listened again and again.

I joined the Broadway cast of My Fair Lady and Oklahoma too,

and The Ray Conniff singers backed my up on Somewhere My Love.

How many times could I repeat Three Dog Night singing One

While belting out the lyrics with a makeshift microphone?

Near the window I could breathe in spring,

In winter the panes frosted, then melted in a thaw.

If opened in summer a breeze gave a small reprieve,

Burning leaves crept in at the closing of fall.

The neighbor kids gathered for Kick the Can or Spoons, but

 I cocooned myself in my bedroom upstairs.

Finding comfort near the window with my pile of books

Broadway seemed visible, images from poems remained.

I didn’t pine away about a misspent youth.

I still carry the words and remember the poetry,

And l hear those melodies when I

sit near the window in my childhood room.

Christy Woolum