Some kids hide in attics
some in the wooden shed outside
a hide away,
away from trouble  
and leave the world aside

but when I was younger
I’d hide up on the roof
leaving them below to wonder
“Where’d he go, just ****!”

but, “I’m just here, aunt Molly!”
here at the top, way up high
pretending I had wings
and a little closer to the sky

peering down on people passing
writing poetry on the roof
watching the world below me changing
still high and still aloof

till that day I come down wondering
where’d all the people go?
now that I’m much the more older
I’d really like to know

I lost you
just can’t remember where
somewhere in between last night
and here
or maybe somewhere
in between last year
and there
just can’t remember
when
or where........

Here’s a poem
to all the girls
I’ve loved and hated
to the ones I did
and ones, I wish I dated
To the ones I’ve kissed
and the ones I’ve missed
yes, to all the little Misses
And it goes like this...

To little Miss Chievous
so young and free
But I got out quickly
before one could ask
“Wow! who’s she?”

To little Miss Stake
Yes, to the ones we make
the apologies and sorrys
and the patience it takes

To little Miss Understood
I never did and never could
So I decided I never would
even try

To little Miss Fit
Not the health kick kind
But the one who’s wit
I couldn’t match nor find

To the one Miss
I miss the most
though I love them all
It’s to her I toast
To my little Miss Guided
by whom I was love struck
and still remain
to this day
blinded and
stuck