I delve these dark places
in forced privation
and solitude,
ever scrabbling
the stubborn ground
as a prospector must
his claim.

Though dank the soil
and deep the fear,
just close one’s eyes
so as to remind
of the distant horizon
towards I strive.

And dream,
yes, dream.

That I could recline,
garb’d most comfortably
in well-lit places,
o’erlooking Mediterranean blue,
with fine food and drink
and a vision in white,
her gauzy air,
to enjoy a conversation
or just pass the time.