Welcome to Puttyville – one house on another.
To look from a distance your father, my mother?
Beige, tan and gray they blend with the green,
too common and dull to ever be seen.
Yet at night, in the dark, some voices cry out,
from window to doorway to garages throughout;
I see the default turn to unique
in shadows and whispers throughout do they sneak.
Shadows on walls of tan, plastic siding
you see glows of love, of hate and confiding.
Window to window and street light to shrub
common displacement turns from disdain to love.
I see through the night, through your panes of protection
to welcome embraces, solemn reflections.
Dark shadow to shadow a glow breaks the night
to wait for day’s dull glow to make things right.
©2012 – Andrew B. Clark