My Spirtual Hideaway Poem by Loyd C Taylor Sr

When the noise of this world is hurting my ears,
Crowds of humanity squeeze my space;
When the computer screams, “You’ve got email! ”
I can feel the stress attacking my face.

When the phone yelps unceasingly after me,
Like a determined blood hound on my trail;
When I hear the TV barking out more bad news,
Even the air I’m breathing seems stale.

Then I cut away the cords controlling me
And drive away about as far as I can go;
Then I park the machine, closing it all behind
As I feel my pulse beginning to slow.

Then I take a trail which I have worn bare,
that winds around then crosses a creek;
Then I head up a little knoll to that place
To find the treasure my spirit does seek.

Then I stop and breathe the fresh air…
“It’s been too long, ” I hear myself say.
Then I thank God for this quaint refuge,
What I call my Spiritual Hideaway.