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Nov 2013
I am jealous of the man
Three floors below.
The one outside on his hands and knees
In the dirt
The wind rushing through his trimmed hair,
As he digs his hands into the earth
Leaving behind flower bulbs.

I am jealous of the child
Three floors below.
The one in the stroller with hands
Clasped around a cone
The ice cream dripping down to elbows,
The child smiles endlessly.

I am jealous of the world
Three floors below.
The endless movement
The endless noise
The endless thoughts.
I am jealous of the world.
Written by
psamps
578
 
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