windows gradually lighting up they are back home…. Once again I wish I knew what happened in their lives during the day the darkness in other windows stops me from getting voyeuristic I don’t know what fires their minds I don’t know how do I touch their lives I shed all misconceptions of helping people touching facets Of their existence when I don’t know what they think what they feel what they like what they miss Target markets need to be defined
Reena Saxena 
Oh, the world we don’t know. The internal world of others. Very well said in your wonderful poem.
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Thank you, Bill!
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You’re welcome, Reena.
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So true, so sad, and beautifully written, Reena!
Life is so different these days. What HUGE city dwellers used to experience is now impacting everyone as they isolate.
You are a wonderful writer!
I stopped by via RothPoetry…Dwight’s site. He mentioned your poem.
(((HUGS))),
Carolyn 🙂
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Thank you so much, Carolyn!
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Sad but beautiful! ~ Jay
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Thank you, Jay!
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You’re welcome 🙂
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This is really good. You’re an observer of those windows that light up, and darken- with no information about the people. Eloquently written.
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Thank you, Vivian!
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😊
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I often wonder what goes on in the lives of people all around. We no longer live connected, we live side by side! Very sad indeed!
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Thank you, Dwight! it’s been a long time since I said Hello to my neighbours 😦
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Your poem was inspiration for my post today. Thank you.
Dwight
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There is that view in the city, and the wondering what’s behind all those windows. Your words and the image express the wondering well.
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Thank you, Beverly! There are stories behind every window. The realisation hit me, when at one stage, I could hear a couple’s quarrels clearly from my room. And I went into the balcony where are the sounds emanating from.
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I was loving the curiosity that seeped through the opening stanzas, thinking it innocent and honest, until I read the final lines, and it all became a little sinister.
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Yes. There is a build up to another realm of life, not necessarily sinister.
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This is so beautiful…Windows lighting up as dusk falls has, in itself, fascinated me since childhood and your poem touched that string of memory in some way. Brilliant…Loved it.
🙂
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Thank you, gdutta!
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What an amazing view – and I can just picture the hundreds of folk coming home, turning on their lights – one more lit window. Such an interesting poem about strangers. Your poem made me think about the poetry that we write – do we write with a particular ‘target market’ in mind – or do we write for ourselves – our pleasure or our pain? Such an interesting read. Thank you.
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Who we write for determines the saleability.
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Apologies for barging in with my view but somehow couldn’t stop myself when i read your thoughts. In my opinion, majority of the poets write for themselves, some emotion/external stimuli hits their mind and just like the ripples that arise in water when a stone is thrown, a poem is born.
🙂
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I love this. There’s always those facets of thoughts about the glimpses of other lives through those windows. Do they see us as well? This is intriguing to ponder as we delve into possible impacts in other lives we come across with.
This is a fantastic and thought-provoking piece to read. Well written and well done.
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Thank you, Lucy!
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