the slit in my door

I hit upon
a slit in the wooden door
through which my secrets 
must have diffused out 
into the thin air to be breathed 
by sage owls in their nocturnal bench

you can place your eyes against it
and get a glimpse of a portion of a bed 
beside the window
where I passed my jaundice days
in isolation

if you notice it from inside the room
you'll get one half of a stair
and a bit of an iron railing
that stands erect from the world war days

How did all the years percolate
without my noticing

three feeble men
who point to my window while speaking
quietly among themselves