Cathedral Window

“Oh, you put your document on the wall.  Is that so you could see it?” I asked.

“It’s so you could see it,” he said.

That puzzled me.  I had to ponder it and search for the meaning.  “Oh, I see it now!” I said.  “It’s a window.  A window looking from the darkness out into the light.”

“A window?” he said.

“Yes, I have one on my stairs.  It’s rounded like that at the top,” I said, tracing the shape in the air with my finger.

“It’s called a cathedral window.  Is it at the top of your stairs?” he asked.

“No, halfway up.  You can look at it from the top though.  I don’t understand the picture, it should be light inside the house.  It’s backwards.”

“No, I think it’s just right.  Do you ever sit on the stairs?” he asked.

“Yes, I do.  I sit there and look out to the street.”

“What do you see?” he asked.

“Pleasant houses and sunshine,”

“Do you ever see any people?”

“Yes, sometimes.  I did see a friend I hadn’t seen for a long time.  I invited him in to have a coffee and I ended up sharing a poem I wrote.”

“You shared a poem with him?  Did he like it?”

“At first he did, but as he read further he got confused.  It wasn’t the way it looked at the beginning” I said.

“Do you sit on the top step?”

“No, one step from the top.” I said.

“Maybe you should try the top.”

“No, I like to lean against the top stair.  Like it’s a support for my back.

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