A Man In A Mansion Poem by Curtis Mosby

I have become my own home alone in the dark.
From room to room I roam with a glass of wine.
78 was a great year empty bottles filled with tears.
The lights stay off my heart is lost broken in two.
In my bathrobe I live with my eye's close reality in the mirror.
I will die in this very spot old and forgotten in time.
While staring at my own personal monet.
I pour another glass of chateau latour pauillac.
I am trying to forget my memories drunk and disoriented.
Though I fence my life around living inside.
I once was in love a long time ago.
Remeber my first kiss in the meadow of little italy.
Oh was she so ever beautiful that first look only took a second.
Making wine bare naked in a wale of grapes.
I hate telling this story because it ends at the grave sight.
That why I sit here tonight I know giving up is out landage.
But tell my heart that I wish money can buy time.
For a man in a mansion.