last winter
at a downtown coffee shop
I sat on the bar stool near the window

I watched the people on the sidewalk
pulling their coats and scarves around their necks
keeping the wind out

I sipped a peppermint tea, a temporary comfort,
and watched
as they entered their apartment towers
moments later, high up, a window would light up with a yellow glow

a far away
warm, bright, home

and I’m looking at them, and I know, that I should go on
to wherever it is that hearts go on to
that it’s not doing me any good to sit here
wishing for a brightness of my own

but,

what’s hope for if not this?
I’m not sorry
I can’t be sorry
I won’t be sorry
that I’m going to stay awhile
looking at the lights in the windows
of everyone else’s home