.
Sugar rolls sweet upon my tongue
And once again I feel so young,
Back to the age when leaves were green
And the world had a lustrous sheen,
Back to the times of simple joy
When we could all truly be coy,
Labyrinth of precious pleasure,
Whence have I buried this treasure?
What a spoonful of white powder
Can conjure up in an instant,
How it can make old songs louder
And remote years no more distant
Than the silver under your thumb,
I cannot say nor can explain
But beware that it makes one numb
To the world which then becomes plain…
It is as treacherous as snow
Even to those that think they know,
Sinister wolf in sheep’s clothing
Seed of endless, painful loathing,
Beware for this lady of death
Tightens her claws with each new breath,
Sugar rolled sweet onto my tongue
And once again I wake and long…
.
O immerse a dear rug.