I sat by the window and noticed,
Little girls playing on the street .
And little did they notice,
That the surroundings had lost their spree.

I sat by the window and saw,
A young mother with her tot.
The child's eyes did gleam,
But the mother was lost in confound thoughts.

I sat by the windowsill to see,
A beggar laden with misery.
But the bliss that pathetic solitude gave him,
Was unrecognised by me.

I sat by the window and sensed,
The silence of a vendor helmed
With sadness, plight and sweat,
And his sick children he had left on his bed.

I sat by the window and ventured,
Out into the world of pedestrians.
Each having a different experience to narrate,
Each one's life being full of interesting blends.

I sat by the window and lamented,
Over the funny fate of priests.
Who showed a single God in hundred temples,
When I knew I could find Him inside me.

I sat by the window and smiled,
At the sight of a toy seller.
And the smile that he painted on children's faces,
Nevertheless, was what that he lacked himself.

I sat by the window and thought,
What reality to me had brought.
The hidden truth was still unfound,
It brought on my face a prolonged frown.

And now whenever I sit by the windowsill,
I think only of mirth, joy and goodwill.
Because misery will always leave you shrewd .
And you'll never be the same YOU.