Shadowbox

You can almost see
what lives on the other side,
the lines and motion, the shadows
of lives and love,
dark against the window,
a shadowbox
that teases,
where everything is disguised
as something else,
leaving you
to guess, to wish
for windows
instead of this opaque curtain
that almost tells the truth,
yet almost lies,
a cruel tease
in the vague brightness of day.

About this poem.

Sorry, I am not sure where this came from. It just came, hard and fast. Sometimes they do.

Tom