' The White Room' by Charles Simic

The obvious is difficult
To prove. Many preferThe hidden. I did, too.I listened to the trees.
They had a secretWhich they were about toMake known to me,And then didn’t.
Summer came. Each treeOn my street had its ownScheherazade. My nightsWere a part of their wild
Storytelling. We wereEntering dark houses,More and more dark housesHushed and abandoned.
There was someone with eyes closedOn the upper floors.The thought of it, and the wonder,Kept me sleepless.
The truth is bald and cold,Said the womanWh...