Window

Rain splatters
Wind is howling
voices swept from his bedroom window
Most days it’s the Latin words he pronounces himself
or the next day’s school presentation
But sometimes it’s the questions his head pounds
against his bedroom door
He doesn’t always let them in
Privacy is one of the few locks he has left
but sometimes he lets it open against the chain of the lock
Lets the whispers in
stuffs them in his pillow
Maybe just maybe the dreams will have the answers
maybe it’s just easier to ponder in a land you will forget
Leave it when his curtains let in daylight
mutters to himself all the answers
as the wind sweeps it out the window
Into the brewing storm

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