Looking Up Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

Each lit-up window frame is a signature
That stands for each separate household;
Some with bright tube-light, the bulb
Itself not always visible, some with yellow
Tungsten old bulb, some with fans rolling,
Some still, mostly windows with iron grills
Some vertical, some horizontal, some both:
The glass panes transparent or ground and hazy,
Some decorated with curtains, some bare,
One with design on glass, shining through:
Now and then, a charming young girl flits
Through the lit frame, setting my imagination
Astir, to reach the bed in the dark room
Which is not open to the eye of the passerby,
Or a Lara the purest being in the world
Confessing to her Pasha Antipov, who turns
Into Strenlikov, thus making way for Zhivago.