There's A Little Place I Know Poem by Dan Brown

It sits in the shade
of a wonderful hill,
frequented not oft as it should.

'Tis nature-made,
by iron will,
and survives on local blood.

Location unknown,
a name you forget,
'Tis usually closed to most.

You cannot phone,
'tis not on the Net,
nor reachable by post.

A darkened place
I know so well,
but quite where do I start?

Once fell from grace,
into Hell,
yet was not torn apart.

It sits astride
a tidal wave,
pounding to be through.

It tries to hide
in a mountain cave;
the very heart of you.

There's a little place I know.
Where buds are beginning to grow.
There are overgrown meadows I need to mow
in this little place I know.