0082 The Myself Place Poem by Michael Shepherd

When you were a child, where was it? For there's always
some place: somewhere you go, when all you want
is just to be yourself - because
it's all too much, or not enough;
you've lost what matters most, or
not sure just what you're really looking for;
and so there's nothing else to do but go
to that friendliest place on earth, that's all your very own;
the myself place.

Street cafes, bars, can sometimes be that place:
the sun shines; relaxed, you watch the passing scene
with an assumed slight superiority
that goes with the seat price;
or alcohol soothes all in friendly gaze:
they're just the actors, extras in your play; so sit; enjoy;
smile at the world with goodwill, even love;
a few more visits, it can soon become
the myself place.

Porches, stoops, verandahs -
what a brilliant idea:
put it all aside; you've fed well, so now watch the play
from the best seat in the house:
you're there in lordly public stage box, if they want to stop and talk; and
backstage there's love enough to script your every dream: meanwhile,
the myself place.