You're alone.
At least, I wish you were.
Once, when you were almost owned,
I believed you really were.
I looked and thought how nice you'd be
To live in, all alone.
Suddenly, I found an advert;
A sale board on your garden wall.
I applied.
I offered all,
Or more.
But you're already sold.
To him.
Should I wait?
Will the contract fall through?
How long?
Are there others waiting?
I'll never like another, now
I've seen the best there is.
All the rest are tiny, dingy.
I want light, space, depth and height.
I'll just sit tight.
And wait.