It About You Poem by Abbe Martin

Struggling to see the beauty in front of me
I’m lost and there’s no one in this stupid world but me
I can see all they guest as they pay their respect
To the chard remains of hopes once kept

Why can I see a light from a speck out there?
Who would be game enough to ever care?
Part of me hats to think what might be
For once I will shut up and see what it holds

I don’t recognize the face not a hint of a shape
Yet for some strange reason I feel somewhat safe.

A formila sound to know you are there
Makes this house a home
And a shed a Palace