In a secret corner,
I sit with my treasure,
My stolen words,
You left them out,
You see, and I,
Passing poet,
Just had to have them,
Even though not mine,
Nor ever meant to be,
For what comes
From your mind is
What I've always wanted,
But, no one ever
Gave me, and s,
I, poet thief,
See the beautiful,
And loving words,
Left lying about,
And take them to
A secret place
Where I, like Golem,
Can gloat over them
As if these
Precious jewels
Were mine.
Donovan Baldwin