The Man Whose Head Was A Window
Poem By Mary Naylor
His head was a window where all
Could see inside: The floors,
The corners, the furniture, the walls,
There was no way to shut the doors.
He was forced to hear all the mutters,
He just couldn't shut them out.
The grumblers, the tut-tut-tuters,
Knew what his life was all about.
Their eyes probed his mind like searchlights,
'Till he moaned, 'Can't you let me alone?
Must you stare at each joy and blight?
Still they honed and questioned, 'till all was known.
Finally, there was nothing left to see or hear,
Not even a gemstone or a soft groan.
Gone were all the treasures and fears,
Nothing remained but a crystal bone.