Once, I heard the trickle of a long forgotten stream
As I strolled along taking in the syrup of the noonday sun’s gleam.
My throat was dry, and so I stopped
To take a sip with cupped hands,
Realising too late that I’d been caught in black quicksand.
What fool was I
To have ventured without a careful glance?
Had I thought I was fair of fortune enough
To gamble with chance?
Some might now expect me to say I was saved
But sadly I must inform you that for me, a different end was paved.
Though my body soon disappeared underground
I now hover above the water
Guarding forever against any fools willing to clown around.
Treeshallow Musings 