One's life to another might look
As if a dream.
The reality is the rose colored lenses
Looking at the other side of the lawn
Is just as green.
If not more.
With depth and illusion
So easy to peer through the lense
And see past the fence.
Pink tinted and peeling.
Belly swollen and purging
With the whys and wherefores.
A different dimension
An empty nest
Lies in the awakening of another.
Yet for years.
Captured by schedules rigidly the days flounce by
While she beyond the garden
Longs for the days of young.
The pitter patter
The loud and clatter
Become swallowed up
In the solitary noise.
