A little hut to call my own,
To lock the door when troubles call,
So that I may be left alone,
In inward motion,

I might smoke a cigarette,
Or drink a beer.

Regard my navel,
Clip my nails.

Or play a tune.

Tell myself,
It’s all OK,
Who needs the world?
When the world brings such troubles.

Then thoughts of you,
You beside me,
My eyes in yours,
‘Thine in mine appear’,

My heart in yours.

– Send walls flying,
Roof blasted,
To the very heavens above,
Blow my humbled dwelling apart.

‘Till nothing is left,
But the bare bones of a man,
And a soul that knows.