missingpiece

in the spirit of writting things that will never be read, here goes.
eyes are slowly closing as the day has worn on to long,
dull and common place sences wear away,
amazement and beauty reveal themselves through pinholes,
and im left wanting,
drifting to the familiar,
the brick layers are working feverishly,
but the door will remain open,
for one who may wish to enter,
my arms are allways open.