Somewhere between heaven and earth,
Or may be before the inferno of dearth,
I look for a place to live,
From where I can see the globe’s girth
I look for a space of my own in this living world
Work hard bread and feed the crumbs to the bird,
Attached a little to the earthy beings,
But a maverick detached from the insolent herd
I don’t think I will fit beyond the Golden Gates for good,
Nor will I be comfortable being roasted by men in hoods.
Just some open space to read, write & drink,
Some port wine will do for me, what no elixir could.
An arm chair to drop down, when mind is on a high,
To read some literature and often let out a sigh.
A writing desk with lot of blanks,
A pen to write and scratch my head or thigh.
I don’t understand much about heaven or hell,
But if you are around when I hear the final bell,
Just put this note for the holy one,
Somewhere in between, if I can dwell?