The Way of the Blossoms

I made my hiding place

                                                a large cardboard box

                                                at the back of the garage.

                                      There I lived my secret life.

                                      Days were longer then,

                                               so were the years that I dreamed

                                               of being a thousand different places,

                                               other than Wichita.

                                      It rained,

                                               hailed, and

                                               snowed

                                               year after year.

                                      And all too often my creative thoughts,

                                               dreams and imagination

                                               followed the way of the blossoms

                                               in the bedroom window box.