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The Sting of the Serpent
Oh the thrill
it is with me still
As the dream persists
for good or ill
But to recapture its flavour
each time it occurs
is never to savour
the tang
that taste
of the original
The first touch
was always the best
for then
before the sting
had been sucked
before the loss
of its life blood
now decayed
the essence that made
the sharpness that gave
the serpent’s bite
the bitter tang
of its toxic fang
So little remains
to colour that
repeating dream
its haunting theme
that stays
to haunt
my dimming days
to drown my
darkening nights
Roland's Ragbag 