Windows into the Neverland

A glimpse into another space

black and white

yellowed

Through windows into the past.

Pictures in an old album

where people who are no longer their own

Looking at

Or looking from behind

They look so hard that it makes you want to

To hide

Or answer

Or tell all and sundry.

And you’re desperately silent

in response to the silence

of the old yellowed windows

into the reality of dreams that are gone

the secret passages

through which the illusion of presence

seeps

through the deafening

and insurmountable

wall of the darkness

of the lost memories.

The strangers

the closed loved ones

Where do they look

and to whom they are silent

when we close the album

where are those windows?