Once I Reach Your Threshold Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I wake up with booze and strut like a
Male peacock his feathers in the zoo,
Not knowing that he captured and partaking in an act;
And isn’t this strange,
Sharon-
Sharon underneath the marigolds, your daughter cooing at
Your hip
While the serpents and ventriloquists are running wild;
And you are out of money, or something;
But you still have great taste buds- and a house and a husband
As young as quarterback of dime;
And the river has you hypnotized and kisses your neck every time
It floods;
Sharon, even down, you can never be defeated:
You are a headdress without at crown, you are so many ways
Through the darkness;
And the cities finely gowned in their tourisms leap like excited
Ants at their picnics,
And the mountains bow like bards; they curl like the shoes of
Minstrels to smell your bouquets;
While all of these flowers I once hoped to give to you are
Homeless,
But I am walking without a sound up your footpaths, roaming without
The sweetness of hope that once I reach your threshold
Wont you still be home.