The Old Pine

I had carved the port hole
into the old pine,
and a chamber large enough
for me and a few small trinkets
of my desire.

I have fashioned a door
out of an old barrel cover,
large enough for me to shim through,
yet solid, and sealed,
to keep out the weather.

It is here that I retreat,
a place to hide
from the gathering storms of life.

I have stocked my chamber
with wondrous works,
Stevenson and Tolkien,
gatekeepers to foreign lands,
and keepers of hidden lore.

If I disappear some day,
and do not return,
Do not search, do not worry,
for I am off on brilliant adventures,
and will return in due course.

For it is here that I blossom,
a place to explore,
creating gathering storms of life.