A Night On Still Island. By CpSingleton (c) 2012
There’s an Island, you know,
Where the wind doesn’t blow,
But the fish make the trees sway in time.
They employ many chums
To bang on skins of ripe plums
And the seagull stands by with a rhyme.
The Monkfish will smile, and
Dress up in style
Hiding flutes of champagne in his cowl
He’ll sip when not seen
For he’s too tight to be keen
On sharing his booze with the fowl
Then the night will draw close
And for a picture they’ll pose
Not a photo, but one drawn in inks
The octopus will offer
A dip from his coffer
As long as nobody blinks.
The trees will quit swaying , and
The band will stop playing
As the night owl offers a good day
They’ll shake fins, claws and hands
To which everyone stands
To go home with nothing to say.