Window

Poem:Window

I survived

I made it

I’m still here

I needed it

It did me good

Sleeping with…

the window open

Review: Window

Upon beginning to read the title and first three impactful lines of the poem I begin to think that some sort of drama has unfolded. Ooer. Has the poet used a window to perhaps climb out of somewhere to escape? Or maybe they’ve climbed through a window to go into somewhere knowing that it’s safe. Home sweet home eh? It could be a sanctuary of some kind? Or even a ‘window’ of opportunity where time is limited? What’s happened to the good old fashion doors that people use? Why has my imagination taken me here? Is that the poet’s doing or that of my own? Maybe I’ve watched the film “West Side Story” a few too many times and I’m making those associations with windows and the story of true love. (I won’t spoil it for you dear reader, (if you haven’t seen the film) but just to alert you, in case you do, things do go a bit erm, well, a bit… ‘bosoms aloft’to put it mildly, but like I say, I won’t spoil it. Bosoms aside, what is it that I am about to discover here in the poem? I read on with intrigue. What is the ‘it’ that the poet is referring to?

What was needed? And what did the poet good? Ooer, more intrigue. Then it’s revealed that ‘sleeping’ is taking place…phew right? A well-deserved rest and a regular deep uninterrupted snooze? No, it’s a ‘sleeping with’ that’s going on. Ooer some more! With what or with whom I wonder? My imagination continues to race; Could it be, as the adage says, the “sleeping with one eye open”? I get that. If the poet has had to escape out of a window then I suppose it’s only natural to remain vigilant. It could be the sleeping with a much loved and trusted pet dog like a ‘Newfoundland’ for example? They are huge, cuddly, soppy and look like bears. Or it could be a lover? Hmm and phwoar? Either way, the ‘happy love, loved up’ hormone Oxytocin is released and swirling around in the brain. Either of these would have done the poet good. Finally it is revealed what did the poet good that it wasn’t cuddles or intimacy but having the window open. I pause to think about where my imagination has taken me. It must have been a hot night, in terms of the temperature. Summertime nighttime heat is indeed oppressive and can be hideous. The extreme hot weather surely cannot put anyone in their right mind to be in the mood for a ‘bit of the other’ An opened window can serve as an ally and a wise move. Having said that though, I’d advise, if there’s time, for the poet to invest in a set of ear plugs to block out any annoying night time noises especially if one lives in a city. A lot of dodgy goings on, especially at night but hey sweet dreams eh?

I can’t help but have one final thought though. If not the summer weather, what has got the poet so hot that they needed to sleep with the window open?

Were they really that ‘hot and bothered’ or feeling ‘hot’, with the complete opposite of feeling bothered and getting their oxytocin fix? (they might have air conditioning for all I know!) I’m sure that helps with the right setting.

I’ve enjoyed how the poem has led me to imagine all sorts. Is that the poet’s doing or that of my own? What does that say about me, the reader?

An intriguing mini read. I know more about how my mind works. It would be interesting to know of how others relate to this short poem.

I bid you a good night poet. Keep those fans on standby and like you, ready to whirr and whizz!