Words are Windows

Words are windows From the past to the present, From the present to the future. They separate Those of yesterday from those of today, Those of today from those of tomorrow, By only a thin sheet of glass called time. They communicate existence, They paint scenery, They feed the minds and curiosity of men. Words are legacies, Written as a life that keeps living, Read long after their source has disappeared. They are the dash Between the two dates of birth and death On the tombstone of their author, Living in the world he will never have chance to see. They communicate existence, The paint scenery, They feed the minds and curiosity of men. Words are affections, Bestowed in secret on a small scrap Of paper, torn from his algebra book. They connect Two beings walking different roads Breathing different air, And come written with the fondest regards. They communicate existence, They paint scenery, They feed the minds and curiosity of men. Words. Written Words. Are the voices of those who do not find speech a possibility.