Every building in my view
Has
perfect little squares
Of
windows lined up neatly
Which
I gaze at, unawares.
From
where I sit, I cannot see
The
curtains, shades or blinds,
The
distance meaning if I stare,
Then
no one really minds.
And
yet, behind each pane of glass
Some
lives are being spent,
Each
one unique, no matter what
The
co-op fees or rent.
The
city houses millions,
All
with windows facing out,
But
we never know what life
Behind
those windows is about.
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