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Aug 02, 2017 at 08:42

The house was new, The price was sane, But a part of his life, Was spent by the window pane.

The window was big, And many a thing it saw, The lively scenes it viewed, Were always full of awe.

Every new day, When the sun came after the night, The window seemed very happy, And it allowed in a lot of light.

And then it reflected, What was a daily affair, Young children going to school, And mothers giving instructions with care.

Many a people passed by it, The window kept an eye on all, Some were good, some were bad, Sometimes a poor girl with a doll.

Dust settled on it, And it got covered with dirt, But though the window stood still, It never felt hurt.

When the evening came, Children played and ladies talked, The window knew all gossip, And an eye it kept on elders who walked.

When the moon rose high, The window seemed shy, It reflected the lovely white face, And became a nice canvas for space.

The time passed by, With the window watching everything, He studied and played and slept by it, And once or twice it was badly hit.

It saw the chilling wintry frost, And the scorching heat which was not new, It saw the heavens rain on it, And sometimes laden with sparkling dew.

Times have changed, but the window not, The boy has become a man. But the window is still the same, It grew up with the boy, and it was not a game.

Seasons still come, people still pass by, But the boy now lives in a different time zone, And so in the old house forever lie, The window, its reflections and memories all alone.

Yashvardhan Singh

Student Reporter