He passed me a junk keepsake. I'll not-cherish it for all my years he isn't present. / AO
The night would not bear sleeping
- for hot-aired gusts had driven them to morning -
But he will never forget where he may find bedding
There was an oath in keeping
- though struggles had them driven in mourning -
But he gives always Guidance to them in their heading
A Tree House 'loft and leaping
- made of boron, chromium, and hornbeam -
Is where he aways falling a-rest to the sun setting
