To Bring To Here Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Oh, well—we are home again,
And this is what it might at least as well be:
A forever weekend of video-gaming dungeons spilled
Out like gold fish all throughout the midway
As the sunshine runs forever the other way,
But by midnight she is clothed—and with songs to
Sing:
She could die for you yesterday—but it is so far away
From here—so collect your own glasses- and remember
Whatever it was that she happened to bring to here.