the woman next door,
moving in
five years ago,
about to
give birth
to her daughter.
the husband attentive
to her needs
holding the door, the hand
of other child,
perhaps one, in his,
but now i see the for sale
sign
in the ground,
the truck arriving.
they are about to leave.
i'll never look out
the window again
and sadly not see
them growing
into what
they will become.
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