I often find myself staring out my window
I see worlds, different worlds
Worlds I am in.
In one world I’m a writer, a poet
I own a preschool filled with four or five year olds
I am a lover, a wife, a mother.
I seem happy; I look content.
But that world quickly disappears.
Replaced by Rome, Paris, and some exotic island isolated from all the chaos of the city
I am moving a lot, always
I cannot seem to stay put, yet that seems fine, okay
It’s how I want it, it seems
Exploring, discovering, immersing myself wherever I may be.
That world quickly dissolves, too.
Into the world I am currently in — looking out my window
Surviving, thriving, living each day in the normalcy that I know, what I’ve accepted
My eyes are filled with hopes, wishes, and dreams
That are yet to be fulfilled, or may be never.
Three different worlds
Full of wants, needs, and what-could-be’s
Which do I pick
Where do I live
Which do I leave and never again be in.