A hole in the wall,
A passageway to the outside world.
Its smooth glass reflects,
Keeping air out,
Like an open mouth,
Waiting to be fed,
Opening and closing,
With the touch of a hand.
Its seemingly spotless glass,
Is streaked with tiny lines of dirt,
That may have been raindrops,
Sliding down in shimmering rivulets of light,
Like fairies dancing on slippery stones.
Warm to the touch, my skin tingles,
As an unknown energy courses through my body.
Pressing my face against the glass,
Fogging the pane,
I find myself wondering,
What would it be like,
On the other side,
Looking in,
Right back at me.