The Swamp

tonight under the moonlight,
in stretched a pose assumed,
beside murky waters,
a swamp that once a fountain
was,
in this stillness of the night,
on wet grass i lay,
a company of toads and crickets i
be in,
listening to this great choir,
that since days of miracles,
such classical music they hum and
croon,
simple croaks and stridulation,
chirps that memories away take,
and with my head on an arm
rested,
and a gaze up the skies,
i see a forming dew grow up a
leaf,
and slowly it takes a vein,
down just to hang at its tip,
twinkling under the bright
moonlight,
such a beauty often never seen,
bringing a smile to a being down
below,
and a fire fly by passes,
swirling around,
magical adoration aboard
twinkling stars,
and suddenly a bat takes to the
skies,
such a creature to the moon
aims,
and all this wonder of nature,
that for ages blind had been,
a tear at the corners of my eyes
make,
and i wish pap was around,
thoughts of how we would be,
father and son together a sky
stare,
thinking of what together we
would do,
chit chats on women cars and all
that men die for,
and in the woods of such that in i
be lost,
i feel the dew on my nose drop,
and i see the bat to a halt come,
and in a distance a voice calls,
son....
such tears never keep...