I made a promise to myself
That I would wake in whimsy-mind
Tales worth the top shelf
And fine cigars, by design
And when I woke, in weather fair
Clouds strewn across the lacy sky
The breeze was kind and chilled with care
Steeped in pirates, knights, and spies
I took my place on the garden bench
Opened my case of tradesmen tools
Not hammers or pliers, nor a wrench
Just papers and inks that delight such fools
Uncapping pen, and shoulders square
I leaned to stain the paper black
But such it was, as justice fair
Lifting my eyes, I saw a crack
The fine brick house which knew me well
Settled deep upon the earth
Each season it would sink and swell
Developing a broadened firth
Everything fell from my head
The elves and goblins of distant lands
My heart sank to my toes like lead
And my composure slipped like Bermuda sands
I got up from my garden chair
And walked what felt like leagues across
Over to the fissure there
Mayhaps it was masked with mats of moss
How had I not noticed my childhood home
Degrading ‘neath my whole life’s weight
I put such stock in hearth and stone
And now it seems such fitting fate
My hands shook and my breath quivered
I came to ponder my heart’s grief
The stories that my mind delivered
Were the chill that colored the autumn leaf
I dreamt of lands all far away
I dreamt I sailed all seven seas
I dreamt of willows and of bays
Of weary wand’ring on weary knees
My mind was always on what else
Might lie outside my garden’s gates
While my home waited for my tells
To bring me back to linens and drapes
My home has loved me all too well
With every brick of its walls
In patience, I was guarded and held
But gave nothing back unto its halls
Yet what could I do to restore
The gaping canyon on the wall
I cannot lift the sunken floor
My stories cannot brace the fall
So I returned to my place
Under the clouds in the breeze
The sky still adorned in lace
And ink still running with ease
That night, as I laid bed
Stories running through my mind
With a groan and creak, I lifted my head
Then I understood, and I cried
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