Fingers falling onto the wood, you fondle its coarse texture and smell the cedar rust by inbound alloy.
Your eyes fall beyond glass paned silhouettes.
Some may think your thoughts wander pensively and others, occupied by external hues.
"What do you see?"
Beyond mirrors a garden like no other.
Bushes and shrubs and a variety of color under the almost starlit sky.
A weave of scintillating lights panned around.
Its quite a sight, but that's not what you look at.
Alone stands a tree, weathered with its inopportuned height. No leaves flourish and no birds hinge on its moribund branches.
Opulence borders the perimeter from corner to corner, but it never seemed to touch the tree.
A grim sight you've set your eyes upon. A deplorable feeling in retrospect, for it reminds you of yourself.
"What do you see when you look at the tree that stands alone in a garden of bushes and bright lights?"
"I see myself and my unconventional safety of being alone."