They peer through the cracks to what can be
seen, neighbours once were close but secrets kept
behind closed doors that only those who pass know
what it is.

In the days of old doors open, now
locks decorate each door as untrusted are those
called the neigbours or of those on the street.

Whispers whisk near each door of jealousy, untrusted
though gossip is the enemy. There is always the grumpy
nes that no matter how polite, they wish you never
moved in and will never think of you as the neighbour
there is no community.

Secrets some times heard through a window or
open door, which we turn a blind eye to as its
there problem nothing to do with me. neighbours
not my friends but not my enemy.