The dust that lay on the page
that I left open long ago
is now a page on it’s own,
with a story its own.
I look at it and read
negligence and loneliness.
I read how things are forgotten
so easily
and how things are treated as things
by people who
live their life accumulating things
and rest half of it
misplacing, destroying,
replacing and forgetting them.
How people are treated on similar lines
but worse.
How we come back to claim our possessions
when they can clearly exist better
without us.

the celebrated sailing frog
     from Montgomery County
     went a court'n, or so the tale iz toad
to a grand ole mansion built around 1910,
     and e'en 'pon

     being razed ~2012 ah no dummy
     sea worthiness still plainly showed,
twas February 28th, 1968,
     when my father
     bought the house at 324 Level Road

majority deuce score plus nineteen years,
     rush back with unfettered exuberant zeal  
this aging elf spent psalm tranquil
     May days sung sotto voce
     atop memorialized, prized,

     shingled out, ship-shape valued,
     venerated, vip voted faux ****** demesne
     "Glen Elm" named private
     100+ acre wooded common weal

many a pitch perfect spring day
     found yours truly
     frankly basking atop the spacious roof
oft times begging the cosmic force

     irrationally lyft ting this Earthlinked bing,
     this uber dreamer
     willingly taken with "****"
(magic amazing dragons)

     presuming my absence,
     would not be missed and whereabouts
     no cause for alarm,
    but the usual antics of a contemplative goof

ball, and aware
     a minor for hair (Sunkist) gold
Helios innocently beckoned,
     this then sole Sol tanned

     within the solar raised fold
surrendering while atop
     the multi acred roof where any cold
melted away, whence became bathed
    like a bronze statue of auld.

zip pose zing the weather forecast
     donned wafted air
fragrant with flowered flora
     visibility for miles
     if ether crystal clear,

this high da way countless yards
     off the ground presented flare
approximating pristine floral display
     with powerfully poignant immunity
     against cackling, jeering, scowling,

     parents or other nemesis with glare
ring (smoke emitting nostrils),
     an idyll escape for this heir
to the throne of the mountain king,
     this make believe verdant submerged lair
unwittingly left a gaping hole,

     when Gambone Brothers
     industrial machinery voraciously
     made clean sweep,
     without a trace of former imp pier
     real resilient stately structured heart
     of "Glen Elm" could no longer rear

the well built when helplessly, holistically humbly
     brought to her knees
     (gory detail aye will spare),
nonetheless more than one pearl shaped tear

trickled down chafed
     sad reddened cheeks,
     whose head must veer
away asper thine subsequently
     blotted out never never never land

     eclipsed by transient rubble,
     thence vinyl city (dis) graced sacred space,
no doubt a great ache,
     when Saint Nick sought
     sought in vain for
     324 Templed throne every where!

My first thoughts when I wake up in the morning
Are no longer of you
These days I just think about my breakfast
My life is going on for better or
Worse without you
And only sometimes
Sometimes my mind still wanders
To our old days of happiness
And a small smile forms on my lips
How fast it all went by
And then I start to wonder
What will I eat for lunch

Break the line
As the back of a mountain
To discover new ridges, peaks and valleys
Twist the water, break the fountain
And flow instead in unpredictable ways
That is what Mr. Estlin would say