Mystique

I saw a window someone had gone through

I saw a straight line leading me to you

Your mailbox is full, addressed in your hand

You live a life that is in demand

I notice that your yard is cluttered and full

 I am lured forward by its distant pull

Yellow birds sing a song that is unknown

The grass was green but now it is fully grown

An alphabet sits upon your door

Mystique makes me wonder what is in store

The tables turn changing my world gray

It is like this happens every day

  Copyright 2024

by Bill Ferguson

All Rights Reserved