Poem 3

Oh hearty, weather worn server of drink,
I gaze upon thee, I ponder, I think.
Of the chances that you're all alone,
In the darkest night time in quiet home.
I wonder, would anyone be likely to see,
If the vessel was broken and the soul set free?

I fancy it should be ever so fun,
To come to the house and force him to run,
In fear and fury, breaking still night,
I'll run ever faster, I'll whoop with delight!

Not long till he tires, he's old afterall,
For a moment he's careless and that's when he falls.
Like a thief in the night I dive and I snatch,
In shriek with such glee in this glorious catch!

I rip and tear and drink and sing,
I shudder in ecstacy, at the sensation it brings.
First comes the cries, hearty and strong,
But that'll soon change as we move along,
He'll be left as nothing, a vestige of bold,
As he ends with a moan, quiet and cold.

Life is doomed to cease alone,
Fearful, tormented as fate cracks the whole,
In tormented darkness, isolated alone,
The perpetual wanders of a broken soul.

As I stand in bright new dawn,
I look upon my creation and mindlessly fawn.
With twisted bones and shredded skin,
Such beauty, I love him as though he were kin!
Though you may laugh and shun this great love,
I question the beauty of pure turtle dove,
For beauty is relative and changes with time,
And I think that nothing, shall ever top mine.