By the Window side on the Harmattan

Once by the window side
One can see the greenfields
The tulips and the sweet smelling Rose
And the little spider crawling about in her net
The golden sun shines forth
Bringing her warmth through the window
And the birds twitter on the tree
Which live near the windowside
Sometimes squirrels come bounding in
Throwing their pack of nuts into the room

But when the dusts of Harmattan came
And the tree leaves turn brown
And the grasses grow not again
No one looked through the window…
For it all became dark and filled with soot