Over in the cobwebbed corner of the wheeled
shepherd's hut stands an archaic stone baptismal font.
And there be dragons!
Peppermint green and candy pink striped dragons
to be more precise.

Dance for me Daisy Wenn.
Beneath the musky sycamore trees.
In your rose tinted spectacles.
Dance Daisy Wenn.
Dance!

And I shall summon my erstwhile courage into
Historically broken fists and go out loud and proud
to open the slimy subterranean cellar door.
What's that you say my paper doll? an unexpected turn?
And a promise of otter skies on the horizon?
Do not believe everything you read my Daisy
Truth or Dare have you the heart for a game?
Should I care that you are scared?
After all you are merely a product brought to
life by unknown artisanal dextrous digits.

I am not the sort of sophist to take a sneak peek.
Come closer give me your tartan plaited paw
Shall we begin again? Can you take that chance
and focus your blueberry drenched eyes upon the
newly riven steel lined skies
This time Daisy the walk will be exceedingly long

but we will survive and given time
which we have in abundance
we will arrive!
This time Daisy Wenn. This time.

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