The Tiny Oasis

Leaves tickle at my raw ears,

Still numb from the roads and my peers,

A tiny oasis surrounded by volume,

Though doesn't offer the right comfort and solemn,

The constant chirping mimics the constant beeps,

Branches are moulded to our shape, yet why

are the hardwooded benches what they seek?

Opened eyes will only see peeks,

Opened ears listen to the earth which reeks.