My window looks out on the neighbours.
I see their lives in fragments –
Comings and goings.
I know their routines but not their names.
I see visits from parents,
Siblings and old friends.
I watch him hold her growing stomach,
Rush out to the hospital,
Come home with their child.
I see them take the baby inside,
They look scared they might drop her,
Unsure of themselves.
I am witness to her early years,
Notice she is walking now,
Hear her laughing.
Today I passed them out in the street.
I gave a neighbourly nod,
Mentioned the weather.
The little girl smiled and waved at me.
I wanted to say to her:
“You’re getting so big!”
But I know these people don’t know me.
I live in the house next door –
Nothing more than that.
I went home to a dark, quiet house.
I looked out through the window.
I closed the curtains.