My window of
tolerance is
more like a peep hole.
My comfort zone has gone
to hell.
They say, fight or flight;
I tend to freeze.
I miss the easy
days of youth,
when everything was
green and serene.
The cicadas and bobwhites
sang me to sleep.
The fields and streams
called to me.
I dreamed of
fish and candy
and the perfect girl.
I smelled love and
tasted simplicity.
I pray someday,
my window grows