New Place

Once my home was my mind

Free to ponder with the pillow

How plans were made in silence.

There, among lost thoughts I find

From gray old oaks to torn willows

A forest of dreams in cadence.

From a corner no longer forgotten

With writing skills

And rhyming will

Caressing time and ink in use,

The rhythmic trance of dance have gotten

Far too wild

For any child

To dare a rhyme without a Muse.

Stumbling paths of lines to thread

Dark crooks of rhymes flow instead

A brave new world of half-sentences.

It doesn't matter if gold or lead

For eyes, beauty; for stomach, bread

For every need there's poetry for guidance.