There’s a light burning low
in the window above,
orange glow casting long dark shadows
on what parts of the wall
can be seen
Is it a fire to warm the occupants
of the home?
Is it a home?
Is it a fire?
Is it a fire not confined to the hearth
but swallowing up a happy home?
Maybe it is no happy home.
Maybe there is dissension.
Maybe it is a family of small children,
a family of grown children,
a family dwindling in size or perhaps growing.
Maybe there is only one person there
lamenting the events of their life
or perhaps
looking back with glistening eyes
full of joy and good memories.
Regret? Fulfillment?
It’s hard to tell if there’s an open door
from here,
to see exactly what is going on within,
to make speculations
on what’s going on,
to feel what is going on
–just what is going on?–
in that house with the
orange glow in the window
The Unnecessary Blog 
There is light, at least.. 🙂 great one!
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You never do know what’s going on behind closed doors. Lovely poem.
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Lovely poem, or, when spoken from the perspective of a peeping tom, creepy poem.
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I had considered that the narrator might be sketchy but didn’t even think of the peeping tom angle. That’s certainly a possibility, I suppose.
Yeah, that would be creepy.
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Like that Clay Aiken song Invisible. What he means and what the words say are 2 diff things. It might just be the creepiest song ever.
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