Illuminated windows scattered
Across faces of buildings,
Behind many,
A person works.

How many nights have I
Been behind that window,
Envying those on the outside,
Having left me here?

Wondering why
It once was great
To be so needed
I must work late?

Until finally discovering
Both sides of the window.
Now, looking at these windows,
I know balance dictates

There are times
To be inside, even late,
There are times
To be outside, even early,

There is no time
To regret
The side I am on.