Originally uploaded by cocosolis
This was never a house, though I had all the stones
and beams of oak were ready for the task.
All I was missing was a piece of land
Which was there to be mine if I'd bothered to ask
But sooner I would have broken a bone
or severed with an axe this, my right hand.
The beams I burnt - this didn't keep me warm;
The stones I left, piled up on golden sand.
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