On Closing The Window

From the desk at my window
I can see the chapel silhouette.
Beyond the window-sill,
The bell tower,
Dwarfed by cranes,
Building tomorrow.

Jazz notes sparkle on the pond,
Blues playing out
The last few bars in Cambridge.
The grand old tree,
I'll never be that tall
But to grow I must move on.

So why do I wish away
This window-scene
Just because the books are blocking out the light?
Each minute peels the corner of my soul away from home,
Each tolling bell is closer to the last.
But to grow, I must move on.