My Poetry. Views from my Window.

Rain falls softly
against the window pane
clouds coloured black
as little light remains.
Sun shadows peeking through
netted white vales.
Boats floating endlessly
naked without sails.
Trees moving gently
leaves gliding down
curled and lifeless
aged and brown.
Weed filled streets
saturated with rain
lifeless and waterlogged
rushing down the drain.
Lampposts dimly lit
threatened with the dark
Empty and forlorn
are the avenues and park.
Moments ago, 
this place was alive
children playing, voices loud
birds feeding to survive
views from my window
encourages my brain
why it enchants me
I cannot explain.