Tuesday, October 27, 2009


The rain, the rain, the tepid rain
the sullen mists, the muddy lanes
that splish and splash upon my shoes
As through the mud I do peruse.

I walk'ed once in sunny light,
The sheer exquisite mirth, delight
of feeling rays upon this skin
softly attired, so light and thin

But now, oh now, I'm burdened so
With piles and piles of heavy clothes.
With pants and socks and sweaters thick
With coats and hats and boots that click

Upon the muddy cobbled path
I trudge upon, with eyes downcast
To make it to the hallowed halls
Contained within the bricken walls
And little desks like horses stalls
Where all, like one big face that falls
Hear words of no import at all...


Deep within a secret spot
where all these things out here are not,
I still retain a tiny door
That all the kings and priests deplore.

A door to unforgotten place
where absence builds, does not erase.
Where little hobbits frolic round
And green things spring up from the ground.

A place I walked as just a child,
But haven't seen, untouched and wild,
Barefooted on a walk about.
It seems I’m here but I’m there now.

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