My baby wouldn't wear silk,
So I poisoned his milk.
Now, he's a man
Of a different ilk.

Doctor gave me a script,
Written in crypt.
Something extra special
For my druggist and me.

From behind the counter,
Sweet tiny counsellor,
Warm Island Breeze,
Wafting Over Me.

Leafing through records
Of a minstrel bard,
Pictures in my mind,
Soft and not hard.

With a turn of the page,
I'm standing on stage,
Recounting a life,
Escaping much strife.

Evening light prisms,
Beaming through loft windows,
Midnight clear sky,
Stars twinkling around.

Shades of blue,
Love abounds.

Peacefully pocketing
Hands in concert black,