The Storm
Were you dancing with the daffodils?
I saw you in the field.
Your heartless laughter rising,
up to the azure shield.
Stop hiding in the roses!
I can see your lying lips.
The iris and the tulip wave,
beneath your swaying hips.
How dare you play with flowers?
Their beauty cannot hide,
the cancer of uncaring,
that lives on deep inside.
And now the storm is coming.
Clouds were witness to your flair.
So thick with retribution,
and vengeance is the air!
Behold, I see the ending:
The Crocus and the Crime.
The Devil in Denial.
The Riddle and the Rhyme.
2 November 2016
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