The Porch

I haven’t written much poetry before, I hope this is alright.

I sit on my porch with a drink in hand
The sky is a delicate blue
The clouds like an ivory symphony
Both are regal, calm, and powerful
Elegant maple trees loom above
However I am not focused on nature
Staring ahead, I watch the passerby’s
I like to imagine the lives they lead
My goal is to live through their success,
and to feel their happiness
Their contentment fills me with hope
This optimism is a drug I partake in often
I hold onto the high as long as I can,
But I can never get a firm grip around it
It’s like attempting to clutch fog in a storm