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.
