Thursday, February 24, 2011

The Merchant of Soy - a poem

I had no time, a busy me.
Like running hare in Alice land.
Until one day I heard melody;
Too familiar for it was from my homeland.

Oh music was sung by a merchant
of soy, dressed in dark caramel syrup.
I became addicted to the daily chant
But did not suspect something more than trance.

It was when nature had a call
that suddenly enchanted, by the merchant's ball.
With sprouts of fine fibers filled,
I can't resist to listen to the singing field!

And then beyond that disturbing ordeal,
The merchant's call brings music to my ear.

PP

17 September 2008

Warning:  This poem is the intellectual property of the author.  Unauthorized reproduction and/or distribution is prohibited. All rights reserved.

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