We small hobbits of the Shire ride
across narrow roads and valleys of wide...

Free flying air veins behold
naked smiles...

Before me cries your people's scattered hearts
once united but now thrown apart...

The sage spirits of my ancestors fly overhead
telling that the high lands to the north and south...

Solitude engraves
.....her judged name...

I know I can stand
against the pitch-black eye of evil...

I wake up to a perfectly delightful essence...
It's not just another rainy day in New York City...

I never carry tote bags and cherries
strutting the streets like frisked apple berries...

Loneliness penetrates silence
as I am paralyzed...

I have heard that the soul you eternally bind with
is also your very best friend...

For eons I have escorted my stealthy gentlemen
and accompanied his courteous dancing partner...

I contemplate as I stare
at the vigilant eye of an angel...