Thursday, January 15, 2015

6257. THAT DAYS OF THE HERMIT'S SHACK...

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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