I spend all my time staring out the window,
Watching this life go by.
Watching trees rattle, flowers that grow,
Rain or cloudless skies.
A drink close at hand,
A cat curled beside me,
A notebook and pen in my lap.
I could sit here forever, here by the window,
Me and my perfect view.
My mind always racing, creativity flowing,
Millions of thoughts that I brew.
My pen can see everything,
My paper keeps track,
My writing becomes immortal.
The hope of all writers and poets alike,
To capture the world in ink.
Strike a nerve, ponder a thought,
Make the whole world stop and think.
So I sit by my window,
Watching you live.
Passion inked black on the pages,
And a soul I willingly give.
