The sun split the spire
To put out the fire
Tick tock, tick tock
The the metronome hummed
As he combed the tome
They thought he was their man from Rome
But this far from home
He was unknown
In this land
They knew not his true hand
The secrets he keeps
The secrets he passes
Through ports he passes
By all the lads and lasses
Pockets full of bribes and taxes
Secrets concealed
In cyphers and waxes
Secrets passed
At late night meetings
And fancy dances
Tell the riggers to hoist the sails in the foggy bay
The cabin boy heard him say
At the break of dawn
He sails away
With battle plans drawn
Hidden in bolts for clothes
To be squirreled away in the halls of the Doge
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Let's Don't Do This
"I just can't do this anymore..." "Do what?" What can't you do? Put gas in your own car? I swear to God you make me take care of everything, don't you? You know I'm on my way to work right now but that never stops you from bothering me, does it?"
By Shirley Belk7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Unholy tropes of espionage, Batman! Will Quasimodo be able to save the day?