What does a house of windows see, but all that has become of me.
In each little pane of glass I see living images of my past.

Infancy, childhood, and those treasured days… filled with love and simple blaze.

Images of concertos singing out strong.
Bright sunny days that seemed so long.

A collage of images so real and clear.
Good times and sad times I still hold dear.

A jealous man throws a stone.
He tries to destroy the joys I’ve known.

Shattered panes fall to the ground, splintered shards all around.
I fall down to my knees. This man… he is pleased.

Through my tears I see the shards scattered deftly through my ruined yard.

As I lovingly gather my broken life about me, I look again at the piece to see what He… did not see.

Instead of destroying me with his ploys, he, unknowingly, has multiplied my joys.

A forgotten strength surges up from inside me.
I am stronger than he.

My joys reflected a thousand times more, Shining brighter than before.

What does a house of windows see, but all those great things which are a part of me.

I am free. I am free… he can never touch the spirit inside of me.