Underground

My own home. With a backyard garden to roam. But I’ll save it for the rabbits to eat. Watering plants would leave me beat. I could go to the pool. But I’d rather have an icy shower to keep me cool. There’s nothing wrong with this place. Except all the empty space. No photos on the walls. Not even a ghost to wander the halls. In this place where I survive. Holed up in here, no reason to try. I would rather live underground. Where no one is searching, not even a hound. No crying or even laughter. The silence is what I’m after. Underground is for those like me. Who never learned to climb a tree. All we do is write on the wall. “We were here,” and that is all.