The Little things of the Everyday Evening

Peering through the window of my bubble,

I wonder

The things that are of the everyday evening,

Cars zooming in and out, shining red and yellow,

Like infinite and fierce shooting stars of the faraway sky.

Buildings growing tall,

Matching the wild and untamed grass of green

That springs in the exiled corners of the central park.

Although luxuriant they flourish,

They aren’t sights like that of green grass

Tingling senses of eyes and feet.

Waddling through this dry turf of grey,

Are ants that carry bags of laptop,

Seeking the sweet embrace of rest and refuge

After long hours of seeking bread.

 They strut into bubbles like mine,

That lights up and out

Like the twinkling of distant and reachable stars.

Is this the only beauty that I was promised,

By this world unlike the others

I wonder, I wonder,

Do I have to venture into the untouched lands of solitude,

for what I seek

I wonder, I wonder,

Peering through the window of my bubble

I wonder.