Ants

She lived in a ranch house
Under a mellow midwestern moon
Her existence was peacefully flat
The blades of grass quivered restlessly
Having knowledge beyond her own

He lived in an aged brownstone
Bordered by begonias
And bigger brownstones
The ants marched around his feet
In reverence to his dormant power

They lived in a modern mansion
Nestled uncomfortably into the hillside
With a mirrored exterior that
Reflected the world back upon itself and
Deflected sunlight from their lives

Now she is in gaunt, grey cube
Consoled by wispy arms of weeping willows
The ants sluggishly search among the blades
Looking for atonement and redemption
But the cold walls retain the peace she found

Now he's with her in the modern mansion
Perched deceivingly on the hill
The sunlight shines blindingly against the mirrors
Forcing the eye of passerby to the ground
The ants scurry frantically with warning