By Jamie Lynn Heller
Front Windows
A woman
who lived here before
stood at this front window
and looked at trees
not yet towering over the roof tops
then draped across the wide glass
a curtain that couldn’t be parted.
Hung like a modest skirt
the cream-colored lace muted
the little light allowed to come through.
Was the view too much?
The sky too expectant?
The road with its on-routine drivers
a daily reminder of the contrast
between her life and her plans?
Was the unfurling of spring leaves
reaching to itch the glass
too optimistic for her cocoon?
Was she fearful
of who would try to peep
at the bare legs of her life?
Jamie Lynn Heller