Ah,
but where are my friends?
I envy those who
sleep beneath the ground
as I toss and turn
beneath my sheets.
The rain coats the windows,
the clear paint on the wooden walls,
sheets of gray steel on the sidewalk,
blank faces in the windows--
the quietude, the quaintness, the
quilt of rain in the forests
and dripping from the roofs.
And where are my friends?
Away, miles away,
far from my wet eyes.