The cold winter air hits my skin
Though I’ve been outside for so long
That I barely can even feel it anymore.
The shadow of the statue above me
Is shading the book in my lap.
Despite the fact that the lights are
Blinding me each and every time I look up.
I’m content as I lean against the cold material,
I don’t even know what he’s made of.
All I know is that my voice is echoing
In the empty night,
The only one to hear me is Rex,
The statue who listens to me read.
I’m not sure why I feel content,
Maybe it’s the air that I can’t even feel.
Perhaps even the book in my lap
Or my voice as I am overly aware of it.
It’s not my bed that I feel most at home
Not even that house I barely know
But moments like these,
When Rex is the only one to hear
My thoughts, it’s almost as though he is my family.
Despite the fact that you can walk passed the colorful wall,
Through the alleyway between the buildings,
And directly in front to the building that I call my room.
It is not my home, despite everything.
Instead it is a spot underneath the statue,
Being protected by his strength
And invisible to all those who do not listen to his roar.