There are sealed destinations within, that can’t be spelled on a shared map,
It’s like a tomb underneath the soul that lives in spirit and exists in a warp;
some carry the stillness till goodbye world, quietness then beyond a sky’s secret,
while some meet gravediggers of the soul’s soil, who open the hidden garret.
For bohemians and mavericks I met, along the whiskey teeth of harvest corn
For a while we bond like tight-tied sheaves, but dry away to a bankrupt morn’
The last grain of sugar got swept by an innocent broom, fraught ants’ helter-skelter
You are my world sans curtains; you allowed this guest a loyal rent in your shelter
Chosen key of mine, you opened a thief’s hidden pain, to brace my weedy wings
Blest friend of mine, thrill of a poem, hidden verses flow like newborn tidings,
Loved song of mine, voice of a sunday choir, my buried music was ne’er so heard;
Sweet companion for this earth’s time, feel mine till long heaven’s safest gird.