Cozy Mice

 
 

Twenty days may as well be a thousand,

The silence it deafens, like bullets in sand

No Arabian knights, but a lot of Istanbul,

Pleasantly living a life too busy, too full

To take even a moment or instant to voice

Care or concern for the most recent choice

As a terminus along your self-absorbed way

(And to hell with the price we’ve all had to pay)

 

Do you sleep well at night?

Do you sleep well my dear?

With no more cozy mice,

Is there ever a tear?

 

All those years trained in sculpture,

Your warrior’s knife and heart so pure,

Have certainly not been a total waste,

So surgically removing any lingering taste

Of one carelessly labeled your true soul mate

But soon thereafter made to feel second rate

As you inconceivably asked for time to explore

Your feelings for one who had been there before

 

Do you sleep well at night?

Do you sleep well my dear?

With no more cozy mice,

Is there ever a tear?

 

Thinking back upon the web of deceit,

Left to blindly worship at your feet

Predator or angel, ‘twas one of the two

Who was the fraud, the doctor or you?

A Spy, a Zen Master, an Artisan too,

You scraped us all off the sole of your shoe

Red Hood guy and I rate barely a mention

Nor a friend’s sad betrayal on a whim, a mere notion

 

Will you sleep well tonight?

Will you sleep well my dear?

With no more cozy mice,

And nary a tear?

 

 

copyright r.b.franklin 08/03/06

 

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