will this ever really happen?

Time passes on as i
sit here alone each day
waiting for that perfect person
somebody else
must be perfect for
here

Not us, just you
we are not meant to be here in this place
with these people
who frown upon our thoughts
and beliefs in this world

who are you
you perfect person just waiting
for your financier to say
it's okay
here's your cash
your dough and stash to take
and buy that place you'll love

funny little house
for it sits alone on a street
the only one of it's kind
silent and cute and special in
it's own special sort of ways

could it be that only we could like this place
small and sweet with a backyard retreat

I hear cackles bursting through my
windows
it breaks my thought and concentration to
hear it just one more time
my hair cringes and
i want to be rid of the people
who make this so hard
living here so incredibly difficult

wind whips around the house today
no cars or people have come to listen
to the blustery
sounds
among the trees of our street
or hear the sweet sound of rivers on my radio
nor have they come to view the flowers in
our garden...