Hemlocked Heart

Go meet a friend long sense knew
I traveled far through ancient stew
I road awhile on a grain of barley
Waded lochs and brooks in search
Of a lost friend, bright and bubbly
Who lived in bowls of silver birch
Whose face I had never seen
Whose voice I’d never heard,
Yet I dove through pinto beans
I searched in bowls of noodles
And cans of clams and cream
Until I found my own dear friend
In a stew made out of dreams.