Watching Her

Where I stand

Peering out from translucent panes

I see the tree, leaves turned golden at this time of year

Beyond the tree I see a house, their garden sharing our back fence

I’ve never known her name, the lady who lives there. Denting the grass with her bare feet early in the morning, hunched, not to be noticed.

And I see more houses next to hers, some with loft conversions and some with fancy glass conservatories

But further than that, I see nothing

So I wonder about life within four walls

Stains on the carpets and forgotten mugs hosting mould under the bed

Moth eaten silks and cheaply bought treasures held dear behind cupboard doors

Tidy sinks and bleach drenched bathtubs

Life thriving, shielded from judgements

Life dying, shielded from acknowledgment

Then I stop wondering and I’m called back to the tree. She is never timid

Sharing herself each day, no need to whisper secrets under the duvet

She stands naked with no apology

And I can see, never needing to apologise for noticing her beauty