The Window

The ravages of time it had stood,
those pieces of wood and glass.
Someone had pinned them down with nails and long pieces of logs.
The first time I saw them was when I had gone to buy the house.
The beautiful house with the courtyard,
and the rooms large and tall,
just as I had imagined it all my life long.
A peaceful sensation gripped me when I saw the work of art,
yet, a nagging feeling, left me with questions in my heart.
It felt terrible that the world in the house had been shut out,
and the work of the creator appreciated no more.
During our meeting, the owner was tight-lipped,
as if he did not want to talk about the crime.
So I fell silent and no more questions were asked.
He signed the papers,
as if happy to let go, of the house or the memories, I do not know.
I had the renovation work started,
there was plenty to be done.
But, the windows were my priority,
I wanted the house and the work of the creator to be one!