THAT DAYS OF THE
HERMIT'S SHACK....
That days of the hermit's shack have left me
speechless should come as no surprise -
for I live in dIstant days now long away. The
old man is gone now, yet I still can smell his
pipe and air. We had to bury him in a gunny
sack, like a bag of dirt in our secret Pennsylvania
hillside : where we brought him in secrecy.
I love the living but not the day : all of now
just reeks in insincerity. If I were to awake,
one day, and see the smoke again arising
from his chimney, I'd be alive, again,
I swear, in Heaven.
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