A good man is soon out of company.

The woman he lives with
believes he is a fool
and having seen no sign of his cure
she feels insecure.

He is weak and so acts good,
she rues in bitter mood.

Goodness buys him no good place anywhere.

People interpret his grace his kindness
as his meekness.

He leaves his seat for others
but is never offered a seat
with sellers he is nice
but parts paying the worst price
being never vocal with claim
favors seldom find his name.

Yet in goodness only
his heart loves to dwell
and on the humble bed
he sleeps well.

Where, oh where, should l
next place my heart?
I've run short of space
I've lost the art.

One chamber is for sorrow
another for joy
others speak of days of old
when I was a carefree little boy.

There are secret cupboards
where tears aplenty once I did hide
age has taken its ravaging toll
time I took regrets to set aside

But there's that sanctum
which ever does abide
carved to belong but to me and you
in no other place should our love reside.