Below The Surface

Deep below the surface,
the foundation of my home.
Proud windows made of glass,
Worn carpet lots have known.

Dim gray, tan, and custard cream,
Dull shades hit my eyes and they smile back.
Lights aren't on- cool and serene,
My personal cozy shack.

Hm...Hm...Hm... of Silence,
Can you hear it?
Let my ears rinse,
From the noise above most covet.

Why do others think it's creepy?
Do they not understand its peaceful melancholy?
Will someone join me down there someday?
Or will my solitude, be my folly?

Oh, how I love it's sweet dusky smell,
the wooden bar, smooth to the touch.
There's no echo when I yell,
But it soaks up sound and listens, its my crutch.

My sweet secluded space,
My sweet secluded space,
My sweet secluded space.