First Floor Window

Scents of roast beef,
mashed potatoes swirled
with pools of melted butter
linger and tug.
Glowing cozy and bright,
faces are illuminated
and animated.
Clinking of forks
and scraping of knives
and laughter, so much laughter,
inviting and contagious.
Uncle Steve getting boisterous
as he refills his wineglass
for the third time.
Cousin Jill whispering
to Cousin Sue.
A heated political argument,
always inevitable,
at the far end of the room.
Tendrils of Sarah’s hair
softly framing
her lovely face
as she feeds the baby
and cuts meat
into tiny bites for Charlie.
Tearing my eyes away
and glancing up,

First Floor Window

second floor brightly lit
but barren
and third floor
same
quiet, so quiet,
outside, looking in.