A barn owl flies past my window,
With something on his mind.
Is it a work or family issue?
Or a twig he cannot find?

The paperboy lingers at my door,
No older than five.
Does he wish he was playing with friends?
Or that his parents were still alive?

A weeping girl leans against my fence,
Contemplating deceit and lies?
Has she run away from home?
Or is his violence the reason for her cries?

I wait, confused, alone,
Letting every person be.
I can try and see right through them,
But will they see through me?