Living in Concrete

​Rocks and stones and twigs and sticks,

In front of a house that's made of bricks.

A house that stands so firm and tall,

While the leaves wither away in fall.

I look up to see the branches sway,

Little birds there, are flying away.

I climb up the tree to find their nest,

To me though, I know what is best.

In history we have lived there,

And history might just repeat.

But for now I am content,

Living in concrete.