I look out the window longing and dreaming.
Imagining a life less dust and more ‘gleaming.’
This life isn’t bad, this desk is not coarse.
But this day is mediocre and I’m feeling so lost
And this becomes the next, drinking all my time
I wish I could tell you I was feeling just fine.
The birds migrate, they have somewhere to go.
But I’m still here and I’m feeling so low.
I watch them pulse in a crowd, and get so small
As they eclipse the horizon; I can’t see them at all.
A plane in the clouds, this comforts me so.
I want to go lasso it, and see where it goes.
This life isn’t bad, this tea isn’t cold
But I want to do something, before I get old.
I watch the skyline, golden with trees
Each finger of turquoise piercing the breeze.
I think of the magic, I try every day
A new door closes; a new hope frays.
I’ll plant some fresh seeds, drown out the doubt
Wait for the buds, or wait for the drought.
I look out the window and wonder what will be.
But this life isn’t bad
It just isn’t for me.