You Next Door

I know the withered wreath

That still hangs on your door

When you leave at 8 o'clock

I hear your footsteps on the floor

I know the saying on your doormat

I sometimes see you in the mall

When you call your fancy friends

I hear your laughter through the wall

I try to classify the flowers

On your tiny balcony

And I count your working hours

And imagine what could be

I'd like to know your smell

I wonder how you taste

I swallow all the time

In silence that I waste