jet planes fly over the roof
of my house and
rattle the window within the pane.
someone tiptoes to the cellar
to have a more private phonecall
with their significant other.
I lay on the couch, wrapped in a
grey robe on the floor above the
cellar floor.
Not meaning to hear every word
that you've been saying,
just too busy cracking
every bone in my body.
As the bare branches blow
on these trees from the breeze,
scratch noise on the glass breaks
and cracks.
Every way that I position
myself proves that dessert
was not meant for breakfast time.
And if you were to ask me how
I've been, I guess I would reply
that I've been better, but I'm fine.
Can not help but be thankful
to be here and alive,
however I often wonder what
it's like on the other side.
An old soul in a new age,
the colored song bird sings
from the golden cage.
Friends came and friends
went, at the end of the day I'm
glad I've got my back,
myself to make me laugh.
I remember how it felt to wear
my emotions on my sleeve,
to pinpoint every fleeing feeling
in between.
Flip every pillow to the colder side,
pick me up with your car,
let's go for a drive.