By Thomas Reynolds
What does my little eye spy?
The flicker of the Serpent’s tongue?
Mosquitoes fluttering near the lake?
It is the sizzle of the night
Tales as old as Antiquity
Hush little baby don’t you cry
By why would you want a mocking bird?
Peace on earth is the battle cry
Sultan’s wings appear in the night
Cold, crisp and chilled
Stealers of desire
A plant in the sunshine
You wait with mock yearning
Fiddle me tender and fiddle me care
Lost somewhere in the cold midnight air
Rapture in a state of fire
Pulled neatly in the reign
A cold puff of madness feels the air
Alone upon a midnight clear