I wrote this poem when I turned 26:

We saunter on a snaking side road
With crooked curves obscuring the past.
Brazen calamity is the catch phrase,
Each day spent with Captain Crunch
and his lucky charms.

This portrait painted with mud and dust
Becomes the bastion of my heart's desires.
Frail and feeble, kept alive by the hope
That Sterkwater is more than just a dream
In the shade of a fever tree.

Show me the design of everyday things.
God, every day I pray:
Give me Safyr Bleu for the eyes of my heart.
Please show me your way.

Beyond the smoke and mirrors
It's but a few short days
To rage against the pride.
I am 26 now, and another crooked curve
obscures the year gone by.