Whisper

This old room is partitioned by a bunk bed Even the little window is split in two The little desk in my room, like the floor of a valley Even when I look up from my books into only half a window It's always the same, hills, and power lines Only half a sky If you look this way from those hills From that one narrow opening amongst the many ordinary windows on one building amidst the housing You might see me, wishing to take flight...