once i had a mountain of my own with moss and walls and magic and a mighty view a forest of my own listening to me showing me its secret paths and trails green with depths and sleeping sunrises thorns that never cut my feet and face a pine of my own offering a seat in the sunset painting windy pictures arabesques of fortune and forever too large to fit even in a child s pocket now arabesques of forgetfulness are left to burn holes in my white tapestry and fungible wallpaper once i had a world of my own it is still there only i am gone