Outside My Window
Outside My Window
![](https://cdn.storymirror.com/static/1pximage.jpeg)
![](https://cdn.storymirror.com/static/1pximage.jpeg)
Studying
the 50 shades of grey
outside my window,
I let my tea fade.
I sing lost ballads
to the birds,
who go about their business
of home furnishing
their nest growing with pregnant expectation.
I wonder,
do they wish to shut off my voice,
irritating radio static?
Or are they grateful
for background music?