As Abe was walking out the door just a few minutes ago to pick up a few essentials at the grocery store, he shared with me the following spontaneous rhyming prayer:
If I should die before I return
I pray that my soul will not burn.
In the deepest, darkest recesses of hell,
I do not think I'd fare very well.
Then he kissed me and left.
I'd be quite sad if my poet-in-residence didn't return.