Sitting with a plate of freshly prepared ravioli
For which I had toiled almost an hour
I dent my blue couch with the weight of my being
It's comfortable
This glass cage I paid for
With money I had earned by selling my soul
My eyes wander over my
Empty living room,
Filled with things and yet in a vacuum
I wonder for the missing element
Air, water, fire, is it enough?

The big glass window looks over to
The sole two trees in my neighbourhood
I stare hard as they look at me
They seemed learned
Grooves on their trunk may be scars of time
Both hold their ground,still and upright
But I've seen them lean over each other at the time of storm,
Making an arch to protect me