Sometimes we are at home but often not.
Amid the hedges of our hearts we hide.
A peering into other’s windows prevented
by the shades of something else we do not know.

Who are they when they peel their stickers off
and let us see the contents clinging to the core
and who are we on seeing them with nothing more
than curiosity?

Perhaps the vinyl shade prevents the cruel stare
of thought from coming in to the heart’s own shade.

Vicki Woodyard