The only sound, the traffic passing by,
A six-foot fence, the view from where I sit,
To gaze at vapour trails high in the sky,
Some flowers and a rock'ry - that's it.
The brightest colours, washing on the line,
The only scent is diesel from a bus,
But time to rest and contemplate is mine
Far from the daily hustle and the fuss.
A cup of tea fetched out from time to time,
A smile and chat to chase the blues away,
A crossword puzzle or a book of rhyme -
What better way to use the passing day?
Who needs the beach, the ocean or the bar?
It's summer if you're happy where you are.