Frosted Glass Windows

I look inside the house.
It’s warm and inviting—
Much better than standing out in the cold.

Knock once.
     No answer.

Knock again–

     Are you there?

Frosted glass windows
prevent me from seeing you.

I push my sleeve above my hand,
in an attempt to the wipe the window.

To get a clearer view,
To enhance my vision,
To see you.

But to no avail–

The frosted glass windows
are far too dense with condensation
to merely be wiped away.

I can’t see you.