Oh, little window,
sitting up there,
watching the world go by,
without a care.
Your decorated face,
admired and aglow,
are watched by all,
from far below.
You remain up on high,
day after day,
but head not the words,
of what any has to say.
Though you are all alone,
on the side of the wall,
you sit there proud,
and you sit there tall.
You are very beautiful,
yet a question remains in tow,
you are the only window like this,
and why is it so?