Watching From Their Windows

A wealth of sensations, Are presented for many to choose. And from which to pick. These sensations exist, At one's fingertips! But somehow the action, Is not allowed to be permitted. The availability of variety, Does not explain why some prefer to sit... In the daily complaining, How their lives are spent... Watching from their windows, As the wind outside whips and shifts... A boring accumulation of snow drifts. And 'this' they find in the Wintertime, To lock their minds upon... As if guarding. To ensure someone comes along, To shovel or plow... Their fixations away.