The Neighbor's Routine

The thud of their door, just before dawn,

half-asleep, I lie, caught between dreams and yawn.

The sun barely rises, spilling light through the blinds,

my neighbor steps out, while routine unwinds.

Each morning it’s rhythmic, a comforting sound,

like clockwork, our lives spin in circles around.

I see the familiar, yet feel the same weight,

as dawn stretches thin and the world seems sedate.

It’s maddening, this order, both soothing and stark,

a gentle reminder that life leaves its mark.

I often consider, as I’m waking, how strange,

these small rituals anchor—yet sometimes they change.