From my window

From my window
i hear no noise.
Voices don't carry this high,
and eyes dont climb
to where i sit.
The world moves as
if by direction.
Driving, walking running,
with a greater purpose.
That doesn't happen to me.
From my window everyday
is dreary,
doors opening, closing,
birds flying,
with each moment aging
without existing.
All the things i see from
my window
create a moving picture
of my life.
Each moment as disjointed as
the last,
passing landmarks of my being.
As i near the end