Solarium

Warm passageway,
the comfort you bring me surpasses the brilliance of the sunshine,
the solace you bring this Sunday echoes in the back pages of my memory book,
my source of brilliance,
my sunshine of solace,
my passageway to the wild, warm firing range in the basement of the woods,
wouldn't you like to know what it's like to hold a wild creature of unimaginable imagination,
the sunshine of the woods, the comfort of the back pages of the woods,
imagination the basement, wild and rampant with emblems,
brilliance mingling with the sinister and familiar,
breeding brew and brawl, shock and awe,
imagination growing strong like an unfathomable creature in the basement of the woods,
where the shots of the firing range can be heard from the back pages of the burrow
and reverberate off the stained-glass ceiling of the solarium,
where the neighbors gather every Sunday to harvest good feelings for the coming week,
to lay down their pettiness and stubbornness, exchanging it for comfort and good will,
to observe the woods thicken and throw wild moods,
and against the odds of the storm bet their lives that everything will remain standing.