This is a piece of autobiographical poetry, inspired by the study of life writing I am doing at the moment. The accompanying image is unfortunately not the view that the poem talks of, as I understand it, no images from that window exist. I do however hope that the image enhances your reading of the text.
From my window, I could see tens of
back gardens stretched out in front of me,
as if I were standing out on a
balcony. I could call on neighbours
as subjects, as if I were Roman
Emperor, I could recite Shakespeare,
as if I were Juliet, longing
for my Romeo. From my window,
I could dream, and see where it took me.
From my window, I could declare next
doors plum trees to be my very own.
I could watch silently as our dog
jumped the fence to do his business. And
from my window, I could watch friends of
my parents leave, drunk, falling into
taxis, hours after I went to bed.
From the window in my old bedroom.
Days That Matter 
Hi I read your poem again, and I wondered if you ever viewed Hitchcock’s “Rear Window” with Jimmy Stuart and Grace Kelly? Ms. Kelly was lovely.
Not got around to watching it, but it is within my sphere.
I appreciate the feedback, it is worthwhile and I value it. There are flaws here, in not only this piece but other texts that I have posted. The aim of my blog, is for people to journey with me as I improve as a writer. I will give this poem another edit when I get the opportunity.
I enjoyed the anticipation of what you observed from your window. But the poem could use another edit and perhaps a face lift. Jessica Klein P.S> I know you have it in you, so just another edit and spruce up your verbs. Otherwise it’s a great poem that deserves greatness.