Melody

Here on the edge on the mad verge, A snapping ledge as words emerge. Clear as old fears in plain worry, A passage dear that binds folly. Hear the hoarse sounds that pound around, A common ground for thoughts unsound. Heap odd troubles with crippled mind, A fine double as crazy finds. Odd this preview of slimy rot, A fancy stew of crimson plot. Dance with the wind and toss that fear, A surprise win to find glimpse dear. Sit still to see what sight fails well, A hint to be so soul can tell. Play is the prize that zest knows best, A timeless slice of ample fest. Pray if you must to gather wit, A truth to trust in mellow fit. So bit by bit a tune most strange, A sure poise sits to utter range. Feel memory dance melody, A fantasy of comedy. Think of the times when mad things rhyme, A surreal mime wrought in quaint chimes. Here on the verge of pique this urge, A poignant merge of comic purge. Leon Enriquez 18 April 2017 Singapore