When sorrow touches lights end
Beings of thought most likely thought her
To be more than slightly condemned
They say the spoon will sing for you
Of whimsical fantasy lands
He will croon and gently doom you
Giving in to devils demands
They say the sky will laugh loudest
When the winds sing or speak in sweet rhyme
And surely it’s the East that’s the proudest
For it sings gleefully time after time.
They say that love is quite fickle
Gentle one second, harsh the next
You live with it, life is a tickle
Live without it, life is a hex.
They say the wolf howls speak sorrow
But I believe those men speak in lie
When the night fades away to tomorrow
To my ears they sing a sweet sigh.
They say that the sparrow is most fragile
And must be handled with sheltered care
But surely it is the most agile?
Capable of the most thrilling of dare?
They say that the dodo’s quite dull
Perhaps slightly filled with dark malice
To this statement I’m likely to mull
After his attempts at the help of dear Alice.
They say I must end this poem now
Alas, dear friends, it is time
Through my thoughts we together did plow
With the help of a dream and a rhyme.
