His Secret Place

cave on side of mountain

He has a secret place
That he goes to
I’m not welcome there
He escapes to spin his dreams
(And wallow in his pain?)

I imagine it’s a place that’s light and airy
(I fear it’s dark and dreary)
It’s his secret place
I’m not welcome there

I have no clue if there are curtains on the windows
Or paint upon the walls
(I suspect the walls are concrete
And painted none at all)

I hope he laughs a lot in his secret place
(I believe he cries)
I’m not welcome there
It’s not a place we share

I don’t begrudge him his secret place
I think it’s safe for him to go
I miss him when he’s gone

It doesn’t have a postal address
Like 1-2-3 and Main
I’ve never been there
Still I know
I don’t intrude

I wait patiently for his return
(That’s not true. I pace and fret
But I don’t tell him that)
It’s his secret place
I’m not welcome there

I’m curious as to why he needed it
Perhaps life served him troubles
And he formed it bit by bit
A bunker against the storm
A place to call his own

But I couldn’t know for sure
Haven’t I already said
It’s his secret place
And I’m not welcome there?

Photo by Ray Bilcliff from Pexels