Author’s Note: Even as I key this one, I debate whether to publish it in the wee, small hours shortly after my penning or to schedule it for later in the month of June. (Why yes, yes, I am so archaic I actually write and sometimes in cursive when I create.) Let me get it keyed and I’ll let you know what I’ve decided! 🙂
The naked emperor is fiddling,
Fiddling while his fifedom falls,
Falling into mole and vole tunnels.
His bow blinded him,
And all he hears is the fiddle.
His serfs in the tunnels below
Slave to repair the mole and vole collapse,
Blinding themselves to all but the fiddler.
Like blind, deaf, dumb sheep,
They succumb to lemming philosophies.
Fairies flit and flutter fractally,
Confused by complex chaos.
Zooming at double the fiddler’s time,
Speed is multiplied by sorrow,
And if they fall the fifedom fails.
Meanwhile, the true fiddler pawned his fiddle.
The loss of his music expands the silent sounds.
A shepherd tosses him a magic flute.
The tones exotically squeak and fade
But cannot fight the fiddle’s plague.
Elsewhere, a pretty little princess in pink pleads,
“Did somebody forget to pay the piper?”
PS — Foolishly, I’m going with this one in the wee, small hours as midnight oil burns.