The Toddy Tapper

I saw him at a very impressionable age,

A vertical amphibian on a Palmyra,

Moulding clay, My tender, fickle mind,

A folded loin-cloth and prominent veins,

Distracted by baubles and saccharine the same,

I held at awe the Toddy Tapper!

Rustic with his tongue, eyes and gait,

And cooled him the mystifying liquid white,

Salivated my inner, manacled spirit,

He offered me some with a gleaming eye,

A taunt and a pinched, right cheek,

Amazed, The allure of the forbidden fruit!

Couple conversations and a couple charming cups,

An illusion, This lazy summer breeze,

Danced around like tainted, sneering harlots,

Drenched in sweat a couple imbeciles,

Carefree, Like the birds flying south,

The Toddy Tapper and Me!

To this day I try hard to recollect,

The visage, The wizened, old Toddy Tapper,

All that remains is a hazy memory,

And a mark on my hirsute right cheek.