Living Room

I live atop a foothill to mountains of the Cascade Range and people here keep to themselves whether on busses or on trains; from my back porch are lights a big city can be seen; and the blissful aroma of Tacoma remains endlessly lingering. Strange men and women drive so many different cars, backed up on I-5; quiet shameful waste of natural resources and an utter waste of lost time— Displaced in such crowded chaotic madness; eyes reveal a hopeful truth behind bloodshot sadness. I can also see such a sight from my front yard, where tens' of thousands' drive to work very, very hard; a not so big surprise when homeless men floating that-their sign, witness cars turn away cheeks denying wrongs with you and too I. And hope remains prevalent above all other fear; all alone— So long as we give all our love every day; too each, we call home... 1-05-17 Milton, Washington (United States of America) A Sonnet contest about where I live, by Silent One...