When I think of my childhood
I think of windows.
Windows in cars
where I imagined
all the places I would go,
when I was finally free.

I gazed through windows in churches.
Outside the trees would sway
To voices lifting verses
All the way to the sky.
I wondered if they ever
made it to the place they were trying to go.

Windows in classrooms
were my front row seat.
To bugs crawling and birds flying.
They helped me escape
The hurtful words of other children
who didn’t notice windows.
Content to stay.
Their souls never longing
to lift up and float away.