My Window

I wish I could see more out my window. 
The dull gray side of the building isn't enough. 
Beyond it there's so much more; 
So many trees, so many houses, all the birds 
I can hear singing every morning 
From the river across the way. 
I wish I could see the springtime mountains, 
So green with their diadems of winter snow, 
Way off in the distance, past my window, 
Past the boring, plain building where regular people 
Eat processed foods and binge-watch tv series. 
O how it would be nice to see through it, to 
The wonderful world beyond.  But I know that 
In the building next to mine, on the other side, 
There probably lives some other helpless soul 
Who yearns to see through mine too.