In the dark of a still December evening,
I sit staring out of my window,
At all the other windows,
Staring back at me.

A thousand different lives as seen through a lit window,
Snapshots of alternate universes,
Confined by lace curtains,
And lit with fluorescent suns.

In the dark of a still December evening,
We're all just lights behind a window,
Indifferent to the other worlds,
Coexisting across the way.