Home away from Home away from Home

You must hear these things.
You must, please!
You must know before it is December
And thought becomes barren as the trees.

In the home of the hearts of these;
Golden saints gaze on the
Curls that carress the face
That rests on the wooden pew.

("Oh! The water's cold!"
But you were so bold as to
Jump!
Into the frigid, stormy, churning, nightmare
Pool.)

No, cat!
Grand huntress of these realms.
You must not devour our friend the bird
For then who will chirp our souls to peace?

And remember
The one o' clocks
At which we read poems much better than this
And wondered how words sound in E minor?

In the home of the hearts of these;
Apollo stands and sings to us
Through transparent fingers and monochrome keys.

I must tell you these things before they are Unreal.
Before time becomes the place that I cannot remember
Before a myopic mind dissevers the dream...

Before the rain floods my head
And I forget to number the days
(Number the days!)
In the home of the hearts of these
Days both seen and unseen.