Our hero’s parents we will touch upon first,
And how the negative spell was reversed,
So that mother and son were afforded,
A relationship that was rewarded,
And father and son were now given back,
A peace which, prior to, did sometimes lack.
It seems when parent’s are thoroughly assured,
That their offspring’s dreams are in place secured,
They resign to their fate and give up the fight,
And let a lover love, and a writer write.
Yes! The battle to that point is bloody,
And the waters you traipse through often muddy,
But water clears and blood washes away,
And parts the clouds in the sky of dismay.

It has been often said: when it rains it pours.
But when the sun shines, it shines in scores.
And thus the sun’s positive rays did shine,
A broken family did once again align.
Though our writer’s brother did act out of course,
And almost caused a brotherhood’s divorce,
The elder put family before family’s foe,
And let the flower of blood once again grow.
For important things are many among us,
But none as important as family. Thus,
When ties betwixt blood are threatened alike,
The power of earthy kindred must strike.
And render the opposing forces futile,
No matter how strong, no matter how hostile.

And now fresh within his twenty-eighth year,
Our hero made a move for love and career,
To a clime freed from winter, which was a first,
And to a land where he could be immersed,
In articulate rhymes and wild tales,
And harness foreign wind amongst his sails.
For wither the writer’s mind dost run free,
Is where even an inept writer wants to be.
So beneath that Central American sun,
A new chapter of writing and love had begun,
Not to mention our lover’s need to explore,
Was as a fire given fuel galore.
Life is short, and apparently we are free,
So why not live where you want to be?

We will now lay focus upon life’s great gift,
From which our lover’s never sailed adrift.
Tis something they vowed always to keep above,
Life’s trivial pursuits. That gift is love.
And much like all the bougainvilleas around,
Under the tropical sun, Love dost abound.
So just when people thought our lover’s had hit,
The ceiling of Love to which all lover’s submit,
They crashed through that ceiling and sailed higher,
Surrounded by debris and filled with desire,
Than ever before and into orbit flew,
And to all the haters bid a cold adieu.
For only when in love does it become clear,
That hate is a glue to which the masses adhere.

With his family in place, albeit from afar,
And with his love shooting as if a star,
And with a transplant to a place so fine,
Where the waves do crash and the sun does shine,
Our lover not only found a lover’s delight,
But somewhere that a writer could write.
Thus, this chapter marks the start of a new,
Life for our subject in addition to,
A new dawn for his literary career,
Even if only for the short span of a year.
For now adays when he sits down to write,
Out his window palms are carved in the light.
And many a writer can attest to the fact,
That muse from nature does he extract.