Look Through Any Window

If you could look through any window Of any house on any given street, You might find yourself quite surprised At the variety of people you would meet. The couple at number twenty-three Have been married nearly seven years They are having another noisy row: It will eventually end in tears. The problem is, the whole street knows, That he wants a family, she her career. That relationship is heading just one way: The divorce court beckons I fear. Mr Bartholomew at number twenty-six Nearly ninety years old if he’s a day. Rarely gets out much any more Since his wife recently passed away. He has a carer, a middle-aged woman Who is bright and bubbly But she cannot give Bartholomew what he needs most: Love, affection and company. The businessman at number twenty-two Is obese and past his prime. He spends his money and his lunch hour Seeking a much happier time. In the arms of a young prostitute; Lissom, lithe and beautiful. With her he’s a young stud again Not a silly, overweight, deluded fool. The big house on the corner Is owned by a couple who are gay They keep themselves to themselves They rarely have much to say. However if you met either of them You might get a nice surprise. They are just two happy-go-lucky men: Just two ordinary pleasant young guys. Unlike her at twenty-five, We all know her disgusting game: She calls herself Miss Emilia Court But she goes by another name ‘Mistress Cruella – Disciplinarian’ So her business card reads. Apparently she takes care of Perverted men’s sexual needs. They parade in and out her door All times of day and night. The biggest surprise of all to me Is that her house doesn’t boast a red light! Barry Lane at number twenty-seven Is home late again tonight. His wife of fifteen long-suffering years Can’t wait to put things right. She knows what he’s up to, He’s ‘played away’ before. She’s had enough of being his doormat She won’t take it anymore. Her ultimatum will be non-negotiable: The very final straw. If he strays just one more time She’ll finally show him the door. In the small bedroom of number twenty Tony Parker waits with anticipation He’s got the house to himself for once And he is waiting for his girlfriend Allison. She promised that she will go ‘all the way’ It’ll be the first time for the teenage pair Tony can barely catch his breath As he waits for her there. He is ready for this, he’s fully prepared Condoms, flowers, a purloined bottle of wine. At last! That gentle knock on the door. Let’s wish them both a really good time. The story could not be more different For the couple at number twenty-eight The spectre of impending death Waits at the garden gate. Cancer riddled and fading fast, Ginette Masters is long past crying. She has had over a year now To get used to the idea of dying. Her sadness is for her family Her husband, daughter and son. Who will take care of them When she is finally gone? Number twenty-nine holds many secrets Of domestic violence and abuse If you closely at Martine Jones’s make-up She’s concealing yet another bruise. The police are regular visitors To the Jones’s front door They have taken Rhys Jones away Several time before. But every time Martine lets him back home After he promises he’ll change his ways. I expect that there will be a murder enquiry Conducted in that house one of these days. By contrast Jim and Mabel Cousins Have been married fifty years or more They’ve lived every day of married life At number twenty-four. They brought up their family in that house And the kids visit frequently, With their own children in tow now: That house is a happy place to be. Number twenty-one is an enigma At the moment it’s unoccupied. Nobody seems able to settle there, Though numerous folks have tried. Couples, singles, young and older Have all tried but not stayed long The house looks perfectly ordinary I wonder what could be wrong? So, if you could look through any window Of any house in the street where you reside What secrets do you think would be uncovered? More importantly, what secrets do YOU hide?