"Stolen Poem"

You are my working week
My Sunday rest
The garden gate leading not to Golgothas
But to our beginings
Gifting with wisdom of tears
Friendship of winter warm thighs
Shared siliences worth more than golden treasure
We are each other's Sea Folk stone anchors
I would rather a bullet in the head
Than spend one minute more
In nicotiene polished
Bus Station contemplating leaving
Where thou pitches thou'st tent so shall I...
For you
I swore before white doves with halos about their heads
We lead and are led through wastelands of endings
But you are my backyard garden paradise
My shared Coke in 100 degree shade
I would steal for you
Just as I have stolen most of the lines in this poem
For you
I am your stolen love
Gifted to you from Fate's whimsical lines
Binary computer code
Of the heart
Allowing me to read
Your operating systems
I get you
For you.
-Fin-
DS Baker