A window,

Like any other window,

Panes separate reality from fiction,

Anonymity, my closest friend.

The sidewalk,

Crowded with actors in this play,

Passers by looking up,

I’m part of the backdrop,

Important to the scenery,

Insignificant to the story,

But at least I’m still on stage.

I watch and listen,

Taking in the hustle and bustle outside,

So cliche’ yet so relevant,

The horns, the taxis,

Rushing to get to God knows where,

All to make another dollar.

People scramble,

Suits and ties, bohemians and homeless,

Sharing the same life on the streets,

Avoiding eye contact,

Avoiding making it personal

Too afraid of feeling empathy for those around them.

The children,

Double-dutch and hopscotch,

Brings back memories of simpler times,

Things weren’t so complicated back then,

Fire hydrants to beat the summer heat,

Careless and carefree were the names of the game.

My hands to glass,

Breath fogging my lens to the world,

Wishing I could be part of the show,

Instead of just a prop,

Destined to remain alone,

A fish in this fishbowl I call home.

A window,

Like any other window,

Panes separate reality from fiction,

Anonymity, my closest friend.