Scuffed Shoes

Have you not learned the art of letting go?
Gravity will have its way, for all your protests,
The exquisite laws of physics will prevail, come what may;
Lowland rivers, alas, often flood in winter;
A man with mouse problems is in need of a trap.

This apartment is beginning to grow on you;
The walls, though bare, pass inspection,
The cracks are not too many,
The dust poses no danger to health.
At night the sound of trains is a comfort,
A gentle aid to deep delightful sleep;
One almost forgets the old dissatisfactions,
The messages sent out, unanswered, into the void,
The haunting songs heard once then heard no more.
In the morning, when you open the shutters,
The light is so bright you could almost swear it was spring.