Silver Tongue

I once knew a thief in the wandering market fair

Who was quick with his words, but always on the run

And lo, his silver tongue gleamed everywhere he went,

It's polish reflecting the spirit of his wink—

And of his cavalier soul

Half of the time he was catching a crowd of admirers,

Flirtatious banter and slaps on the back

But then the guards would chase after him, offended at his witty lip

With their glinting swords as shiny as the silver of his tongue

Pointed straight at him in fierce accusation

Away he fled, laughing all the way

Run, run, run as fast as you can—off on an adventure, wild and free

I once new a wanderer always begging for his boarding

Twice a week he’d stay nights at the local tavern, and thrice in the hay

Every night dreaming wistfully of the golden days of his youth

Next morning, he’d be telling tales of his past journeys and adventures

Seeking an audience that would remember his name

I once knew a beggar in the filthy streets,

Thrown out of his world, and discarded into the manure

Then thrust into a rusty cell, dank and dark where the corpses go

Speechless and still, he lay alone

The silver encasing his tongue too tight to speak

And at last he sank into the weight of his shackles

Chained in his own sorrows and grief,

Seeing that he can no longer run away