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.
17 September 2008
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