The Window

The window was an old one,
White paint was tricking its dilapidated wooden framework
Termites had made the window home, sucking insidiously 
One could only see shapes of the outside world
through the hazy glass which was not cleaned for years
Metal bars surrounded the window inside out
Which denied entrance to anyone
Metals curved to give it the look of an artwork
Making one wonder if the window did justice to the bars
But there was havoc on the base of the window
Spiders made their webs for anything alive to eat
Flies, not knowing of the spiders, danced on the glass until getting trapped on the webs
Everyone that came went for the window for it was the only one there 
Though the window as an old one it was her only solace.