What I could have?
Could have given?
Living so high above the ground.
Golden hair, all around.
Or, perchance an ice-house.
Prize targets for my bait.
I would bar the gate to all who say,
‘flannel demons are your fate.’
Collectors of Rail man watches and leather straps?
Would be imprisoned by constant rain.
Within the four walls,
I and others,
would never need to speak of shame.
I wish for no castle made of brick and mortar.
No flaxen hair that flows eloquently over a petite frame.
Or, a wardrobe composed of rose.
Just a high off the ground shanty.
With four walls in which to compose.