A Transparent Crime!

I pace around the house, like i always do, when Iam unsure of what to indulge in.
My bland windows catch my eye. I realise, it rained and the rain has stained my glass windows.
I closely watch the frame. A rectangle with a white frame that holds the glass in place.
Growing up, what caught my eye were these intricate designs in metal laid out between wooden frames. The metal added spine of various shapes to frames that showcased their aging. The wood would have endured many a weather, yet be ornamental, while the spine would carry a residue; One of upkeep and neglect accumulated alike.

I wipe the glass with a wet cloth, I vacuum the frame . I stand back and wait as it dries. I notice the lint from the cloth has now replaced the stains from the rain.

The glass itself, stands framed, innocent of what settles on it.
Yet the upkeep it needed, now accuses the glass , like how the rain stained it earlier. The glass is accused of recording what it has endured .

Structure, often endures decoratively. While the glass is innocent, it still stands accused of being too legible. Too transparent