I leave a lamp burning
by the window sometimes.
Not for you.
I just prefer the way it makes
the house look warm
from the street.
And I like coming home
to evidence
that someone expected me,
even when that someone
was myself.
If you happen to see it
one evening,
you may knock.
But understand this—
the light was already on.
Tag: Self-Love
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The Light in the Window
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Table for One
I no longer lower my voice
when I say it.
Table for one.
By the window, please.
I order what I like,
linger over dessert,
watch strangers hurry home
to lives I know nothing about.
Once, an empty chair
looked like absence.
Now it is simply
a place where I put my coat.
And someday, perhaps,
someone will sit there.
He will have to ask first.