August

I moved into a new street,
A new block and opened with small talk.
The first few eras I stayed inside unpacking, writing letters,
Notifying my new address.
Then I went out and looked at the houses.
Some merry, some pretty, some still had their Christmas lights on.
I wandered into a party, smiled and exchanged pleasantries.
I visited a couple of neighbor,
Fell in love with them, laughed and held them while they threw up.
Some houses were dark inside, I tried to pinch some flames.
Some houses reverberate with good talk, and yet only had smoke coming from their chimneys.
Then one day, I stopped.
I wondered what went wrong, why those houses that felt so welcoming,
Suddenly had a stone cold flooring.
I bit my tongue and wondered why,
Those Christmas lights made me wanted to go back.
Until I realised that it's August. And high time those came down.
I look for a feeling like home,
And I went to the houses I liked best.
But now that I know what's inside,
I see I've just been knocking the wrong doors.