She looks in the windows, and wonders what it would be like to go to the door,
And come inside,
Sit on the couch,
And read a book.
She wonders what the beds would be like- soft, warm, comforting- a place of rest.
What wonders await in the kitchen? Cookies? Pie? Home-made sushi?
She wants to feel at home enough to strip her clothing, run a hot bath and soak with a cold drink at her elbow.
And to play music long and loud into the night, to watch television on the couch, and look out from the window,
And pity the poor souls who have a house but not a home.