I laid a row of bricks one day 

And an old friend tripped on it

Songs of scorn were hurled my way 

My mind was not fit

To pros­per on a bat­tle­field of insult

I sat there, qui­et­ly

As they whis­pered how it was my fault

In my ear end­less­ly

I laid a row of bricks each day 

My old friend spat on it

My peace­ful­ness did not decay

For I was not fit,

To for­mu­late a root to vengeance

So I focused on my stones 

And before long these lines of bricks

Became a love­ly lit­tle home

Paint­ed flow­ers on my bricks one day

Placed a mat at the front door

Stepped into my mas­ter­piece 

SILENCE

final­ly 

Couldn’t hear my old friend any­more 

But I could see through the win­dow 

On the oth­er side of the glass…

My old friend 

Flus­tered emo­tions

Bla­tant in the per­plexed face they wore

And more evi­dent in the note 

they slipped under my door: 

“ I am sor­ry to both­er you 

But I’d like to know where 

You found the love­ly home

You’ve got right there“