Friday, September 29, 2006


sammy's gone a-roaming, making mutters down my garden
way, causing with my tulips, sitting with the glimmer flies,
i think he's lost his song, has my little sammy, left behind the

bedroom door, where he never knew the day, never grasped
the fullness of it, had his quiet suppers over grand and buttery
rums, where his mirrors begged some comfort, in a voice he

poorly understood, and he gave his kisses to the strangers
at his door, gifting them with all his passions, gifting them
with hours, barefoot cross the floors, now sammy's gone

a-roaming, chasing down some window that might open to
his ways, and find a room where he can sleep uncluttered,
in a bed entire to him alone, and he can listen to the quiet

and never again be found


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