The house across the street
From where she was raised
Is shaded, and shuttered
And inhabited by people
Who only come out to collect the paper
Or pay for a Friday night pizza
There is a man there
Whose stature is holier-than-thou
and whose hair is greyer then most
And his wife
Now twenty years younger
Plants her flowers and waits for spring
To make them grow
Someday they will rule the house
And make it darker to those on the outside
I spy on them at night
and wonder if they read their children
bedtime stories.
The daughter, who I know, laughs with me
And says she cannot wait to move
She's had enough of their watchful eyes
And she wants to see her husband
Who they won't let live her
Because he isn't religious
But she doesn't have enough boxes
or beds to let her family rest
Someday this house across the street
Will be empty
But the ivy will still grow
To cover up what they worked so hard for
And it will chase away everything sacreligious, like a guardian in their wake
And I'll still see faces
In the house across the street