Bricks and Carpet

Watching the trees in the park from my bedroom window, I hear the house softly sleeping; creaking along with the bustling cars and timid songbirds. In a city where the size is feeble, but the evenings are brilliant. Quite similar to that of a beach evening ending. But what do I know about the city that has taken up Friends, Neighbors, Lovers.

I am happier here spread out with my eyes closed. I feel I might celebrate the things that make me happier, but should I wake I fear I may no longer be happy.
So I cast my mind back to yesterdays thoughts, because I am much safer there than in the present. I remember how I did my best to be polite on numerous occasions, but I suppose I could have tried harder.

As the sun peaks through the window, I wonder about my approaching life. Will I be laying here
5 years
10 years
20 years down the line?
I'll be here staring at the same trees puzzled by love and life. It will be interesting to see if anyone remembers the words I said that I didn't get quite right. And I suppose the world wont be springing out of its bed just to accommodate me.

Who knows, maybe I'll end up owning the city.
or sleeping under the trees at the park.
And would the dogs keep me awake
or would I keep them asleep.
or perhaps I would have the sense to move back home.

or maybe I shall build a home,
out of bricks, carpet, love and all those other things needed for a home.

but I've strayed off the subject,
I'm slowly stretching to be rid of the mornings ache and dull senses. And I'm happy because I wont be taking anything too seriously.