THE WINDOW

I sit and stare out the window,
but it is not the window of the building
that I am looking out of.
It is the window of my person.
Out there, is the world.
In here, it is solitary.
The people outside are like leaves and the breeze:
moving and alive, but still just images.
There is a thread that connects me
from in here, to you.
If I were not connected to you,
I would be alone.
I would not want the thread to connect
to anybody else.