The House With No Doors

The view from the window is beautiful,
but small,
a tiny sliver of life,
a tease really,
a glimpse of what might be,
or at least,
what is staged,
what is begun,
just enough to intrigue
and draw the eye,
but not quite,
never quite,
enough to let you in.

And so you stand,
a voyeur, no more,
not quite a guest,
And never, ever
more.

About this poem. 

We all know them, the people who are warm, inviting, yet never really let us in. Why? We will never know. That it seems, is somewhere beyond the window, where we are not allowed. Ever.

The picture was taken in Glenns Falls, NY, at the Hyde House and Museum.

Tom