from a small house with love,
his words were pretty but deep,
because for each poem he wrote,
that had fairies or sprites,
two would be written,
about his missing father,
or the shag carpet he slept on.

from a small house with fear,
his words were happy but les,
because each love poem he wrote,
was laced with calloused hands,
and mornings that lasted until dawn.

from a tent with confusion,
his words were strange but true,
for each poem about changing and hope,
one was written about a lost case,
or the feeling of aloneness,
which was the most comfortable,
he had been since he was forced to leave home.

from an apartment with joy,
his words were surprising and clean,
because every poem about his love,
was lyrical and sweet,
which was a new sensation for his heart.

from a chapel with butterflies and tears
his words were tough but honest,
because his wedding vows,
clogged his throat and wet his eyes,
but his husbands soft touch,
cleared his throat and history.