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As I was walking down out street I noticed that almost every house is for sale, and this is what I conjured up.
Warning: These contents are an attempt to express SMALL perplexities and should not be taken literally. I'm fine. :) If you wish to stress over it, then so be it, but these are the words of a lowly poet, expounding on her humble musings.
And so it begins:
As I walked down the street I saw houses all around me. Their occupants rushing about. Leaving. Everyone was leaving. Everyone is leaving. They are all moving on, some to better, some to worse, but all of them moving.....
And here I stand. Still. I am not moving on. As much as it kills me to stay, the thought of moving on is almost too much to bear. I can't face the unknown.
I once was like these. Rushing about. Going from one house to the next. Then I found my house. I found it and I stayed. If I had to find another house, I fear my heart would break. It is already so delicate, the the slightest movement may shatter it.
So here I stand. Here I stay. While everyone moves.
pt. 2 to come.
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