Under the Gaze

A window cracked, a face leaned in,

a shadow held where light grew thin.

Eyes caught mine across the street,

a silent witness, still, discrete.

Leaves shuffled low beneath the stare,

a prickling thrum unspoken there.

I felt the weight of eyes like stones,

a breath against my restless bones.

No word, no knock, just held and held,

a quiet watching, unexcelled.

The street folds tight beneath that view,

not quite safe, not quite untrue.