The Window Stays Open

For Mikeydred's March prompt

We may not always want to know Fate's plans.

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There's a window that I hardly open

Faded shutters, its hinges rusted still.

It calls in silence, words barely spoken

Its request I cannot fulfill.

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I hear it call, and it grows louder still,

The air grows dense with dark shadows old;

But when I turn, it waits, with staying will,

With a vow too uncertain, too bold.

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The window stays, and I turn my back

For not all scenes are meant for me to see.

Some visions are better left untapped---

An empty canvas, left to be.

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This poem is entirely original. Any AI tags is coincidental.