Mirrors

The windows on your street, you walk by every day what secrets do they hold? People looking out through them yet you cannot see in. Do you wish you could? Or is it best imagined as you pass them by? Is that still a trespass; will they ever know, forgive? You see them every day; windows, letting in the light, keeping at bay the dark. But not your dark imaginings about eleven, thirteen, twenty-three.