Hollywood Cottage


I’m happy in my cottage
High in the hills of Hollywood.
Just beyond the end of an
Elegiac drive called Beachwood
Above me is a castle where
Nobility would be comfy
In a long ago heraldic circumstance,
With columns and corridors
And a ballroom big enough for all to dance.

I am lucky in my cottage
High in the hills of Hollywood.
I dreamed I would live here
But I never believed I ever could,
A friend of mine called me
And I moved during the next few days
Of packing, driving and work
In a cheerful kind of giddy daze.

Ever since then I have lived
In a fairy tale land of stars homes
Where bygone slick celebrities
In Duesenbergs came here to roam.
In my perfect land of trees
And flowers growing on the hills
I lived graciously and gratefully
And I remember it all so very well.

My friends and family came
And stayed with me from time to time
And braved with me the gentle
And peaceful walks up the incline
To walk around the hidden lake
And chat about what we could see;
The beautiful neighborhood
That enfolded and surrounded me.

The street became so distant
And traffic had no real business here
So, wind and trees and birds
Were just about all I could ever hear.
And my tiny home had a view
Out over the lights of old Tinseltown.
I loved living in Hollywood
But, I seldom found a need to drive down.

I still take my breakfast here;
In a never-ending kind of amazement
That I am here in poetic grace
Instead of a stuffy, noisy apartment.
I walk in nature every day
And listen to nature and its healing call
A few blocks from the hustle
And the grinding groan of urban sprawl.

Brent Kincaid


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