A regular man

I am a regular man,
Who feels the wind on his face,
The cold soft breeze,
Hot and thorny sometimes,
For I see through small viscera,
The fabric of time,
The minuscule, timid that intimidates me sometimes,
As I lay down to relax,
On my bed, my abode,
But I am a regular man,
That sleeps sometimes through the terrible storms,
And sometimes pick up a hammer to nail the wriggling seasoned doors on my facia,
Nothing much to hide,
Not much to show,
A plaid, straight old rhythm,
Somewhat like the Beethoven’s Für Elise,
Regular, easy….