The house was green and brown and cool and calm
and midday sun would find its way through shuttered windows
in a way she imagined was like a southern novel.
Alone she walked the upstairs hall, checking
each room as if they were the sleeping ones,
just to see that all was right.
Play cards or read or watch tv,
feed the cat, the dog, the husband.
Work and friends and play and such
and she really did enjoy these things—
but always hurried home to her solitude, her secrets.
Oh, how hard she tried to live a life in balance.
Oh, how well she knew she lived a life of compromise. – pn
art: Edward Hopper, Empty Room