[a pretty picture through the window ☞ 181218]
looking out the window
the music's playing
bur just to keep me company.
if you looked a bit out in the distance, the faded sunset still lingers,
and the bright lights of the city glow as night slowly,
there's one curious possum
on the wires outside my window.
every so often, it stops,
looks in my direction, and
precariously keeps walking.
it knowns one wrong step would
then mean, no more lingering sunsets,
no more hidden moons or drowsy mornings.
the possum isnt real, it's just me.
not knowing where to go,
i just want somewhere to go
it's ever uneventful,
the rain tickles the back of my neck
there's something outside i want
bur maybe i'm not ready enough to
open the front door.