Scars

As I stare across the window pane,

looking down ahead of the flights wings,

I saw scratches, on a full proof glass.

Scratches, disorderly, unorganised,

lines, dots, zig zags, bumps,

it was chaotic and disturbing 

The glorious skies,

somehow seemed cluttered,

it made me angry and uncomfortable 

Suddenly, in a brief moment,

the sun’s rays glistened,

one of them pepped from the puffy clouds.

It shone around the scratches,

highlighting, bordering,

caressing and engulfing.

The scratches formed a pattern,

a labyrinth of unknown,

a myriad of almost mystical designs 

The glass turned into a canvas, sparkling,

a message in the briefiest of moments,

scars are pretty, it said!