Looking in the Window

Our white picket gate shines in the sun.
Our grass freshly mowed so the kids can run.
Our curtains pulled tight so no one can see
What goes on behind the windows,
The trouble I would love to flee.

On Sunday mornings, you get up late,
Racing to church no time to waste.
You sit in the pews with a smile so great.
How would anyone know what happens
Behind the white picket gate.

On Sunday afternoons, you come home and change.
We all make sure to stay out of your way.
You yell, fight, and throw a tantrum
we all wonder how you hold the ransom.

We walk around praying the floors wont creak.
We whisper so we won't make a peep.
We look down and all we see are white scales.
This is how I learned to walk on eggshells.

But with eyes so blue and a smile so bright,
No one would ever know you put up quite the fight.
A sky so clear and the clouds perfectly hollow,
No one would know unless you looked past the window.