First when we sketched a house
We had two windows on house,
One on each side, door between.

As if houses needed their faces
With eyes to see like its inmates,
On either side of door between.

As we grew we had no windows
To our older sketches of houses
As windows went quite high up.

You could see a front of a house
With large gate that hid its view.
Windows did not open to street.

Now we do not live, off a street.
We watch no one’s slow coming.
Windows do not open to street.

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