"There once was a witch from Frogpond
A small village with labyrinthine roads and nothing more
At the bottom of her garden was a weathered old shed
Enshrouded in cobweb and shadows of the dead
The witch was a hundred and eighty two
Disguised as a bright eyed thing
She drank potions and the blood of rats
Summoned to kill them was her ruby eyed cat
Seasons passed and the white haired harpy
Grew tired of spells and hexes
She set the lair ablaze and fled to a cairn on the moors
Her presence a distant whisper that lingered on the tors"
"I found the window to be a metaphor for the unseen but ever present divide that seems to keep me from attaining true happiness.
In other words, in my life, I find true happiness to lie beyond reach."