The Patio

On the patio, I saw a vision, it was of a black dog. Swimming in the ocean I got caught in the motion, flowing, flowing, flowing away. The avens weren't as lively as I remembered on my patio. Sick to the stomach, I fought the worms in the can that I closed. Mumbling and hesitating, I was on the patio of my life. Eyes flashed close when I saw my home. It was a sombre lie of happiness. But Blackie got running, he wasn't coming in anymore. Life is a whole lot flare, and my wooden house is a cabin of despair. Maybe this patio was good once, but now all left is 'now'. But all that matters is 'now'. And all that I built is just a broken house.