Diversion from the bars, the drinking holes of the old and withered. Diversion from the tall towers claiming to be made of emerald..

I have found real emerald.. and crystals of many worth a sparkle in the eye's sight, right here along the west coast beach..
Diversion from the great city. Now I roam country. The key pad doesn't change, but my statements do.. .and these claims come from dreams renewed.. These fingers have aging stories to tell of the ancient times humming in present rhyme.. A finger to my lip? Beg for me to build a fire and share with you.. I would love to ..

Here in the country, the emerald grows high; but it is in bark and tree heighth; it is in song and fiery sprites..