No Roof For Reindeer

the celebrated sailing frog

from Montgomery County

went a court'n, or so the tale iz toad

to a grand ole mansion built around 1910,

and e'en 'pon

being razed ~2012 ah no dummy

sea worthiness still plainly showed,

twas February 28th, 1968,

when my father

bought the house at 324 Level Road

majority deuce score plus nineteen years,

rush back with unfettered exuberant zeal

this aging elf spent psalm tranquil

May days sung sotto voce

atop memorialized, prized,

shingled out, ship-shape valued,

venerated, vip voted faux vulgar demesne

"Glen Elm" named private

100+ acre wooded common weal

many a pitch perfect spring day

found yours truly

frankly basking atop the spacious roof

oft times begging the cosmic force

irrationally lyft ting this Earthlinked bing,

this uber dreamer

willingly taken with "poof"

(magic amazing dragons)

presuming my absence,

would not be missed and whereabouts

no cause for alarm,

but the usual antics of a contemplative goof

ball, and aware

a minor for hair (Sunkist) gold

Helios innocently beckoned,

this then sole Sol tanned

within the solar raised fold

surrendering while atop

the multi acred roof where any cold

melted away, whence became bathed

like a bronze statue of auld.

zip pose zing the weather forecast

donned wafted air

fragrant with flowered flora

visibility for miles

if ether crystal clear,

this high da way countless yards

off the ground presented flare

approximating pristine floral display

with powerfully poignant immunity

against cackling, jeering, scowling,

parents or other nemesis with glare

ring (smoke emitting nostrils),

an idyll escape for this heir

to the throne of the mountain king,

(lion share of original tract

kept by Donald Neilson empire)

this make believe verdant submerged lair

unwittingly left a gaping hole,

when Gambone Brothers

industrial machinery voraciously

made clean sweep,

without a trace of former imp pier

real resilient stately structured heart

of "Glen Elm" could no longer rear

the well built “grand Etta face dame”

helplessly, holistically humbly

brought to her knees (gory detail aye will spare),

nonetheless more than one pearl jammed shaped tear

trickled down chafed

sad reddened cheeks,

whose head must veer

away asper thine subsequently

blotted out never never never land

eclipsed by transient rubble,

thence vinyl city (dis) graced sacred space,

no doubt a great ache,

when Saint Nick sought

sought in vain for

324 Templed throne every where!