All my friends deserted me but you did not 
the proof of it is that as I sit here in the shade of thought
I see it, feel it, the heat of it, by the sound of the insects
these are my friends as the smoke of contemplation rises up into the sky, 
meets the clouds, comes back infuses itself within my lungs 
and finds its way to my heart where tears uncontrollable collect
that overflows in the vial the bee carries 
onto the prairie field with the sorrows of my memory grow
swaying softly, rooted to the grass of my childhood dream
they all deserted me, but you remain my sky, my sun and cloud
my dear friends when the world burns my tired brow

hanging hard, lashed by looped rope around my midrift torso hung 
loosely suspended i dip arms at a 35 knot clip 
leaving a shiny smooth water trail in the clipper's wake, 
invisible but to the seagulls following above, 
their forlorn cries pleading for free squid
the endless trail of salt spray birthed by Atlantic's sea foam 
whose cold slap of broken waves hit my  salt sprayed face

All my friends deserted me but you did not
the proof of it is that as I sit here in the shade of thought

the sea now distant, 
its breaker waves lap at the rocky coral shore
where i left my last broken piece of lonely 
it washed me ashore to the inner cliffs
inland past the bluffs back into the meadowlands 
then the prairie plains
here i found relief