Not failed attempts at beauty or stating.
Only wanders of answers shared in every confusion.How may I fit my family into the equation?
How will we pay every bill or down payment?
How will we know if it's really worth it,
And to to think that we could all live up to it?
What can't I, us, we afford?
Are we all not made up of the same circle,
How did we become like this?
How can I make myself less abstracted? In the wanders of this house that ponders on.
Grace of a front lawn, Breezes by the bay .
All that glitters stuck in the surface.
Near the waters giving off your reflection.
Trees drifting past and soon disappearing between each intersection. Can't you see the trees for the city.
Could you move to the east? Or even past and out of reach?
What is the sum of 11 and 8:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.