a poem, aged 4 years

Our house on Harvard had a kitchen window that was right next to a busy walkway.  I wrote this poem on April Fool’s day, 2014.

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Windows open,
spaces commune.
The inside welcomes the outside,
private life seeps into public.
The clank of dishes drifts outside,
the smell of breaking bread
teases passersby.
It is spring again
and life is shared.