By Thomas Reynolds
What does my little eye spy?
The flicker of the Serpent’s tongue?
Mosquitoes fluttering near the lake?
A Hum?
A Buzz?
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