The voice was reason
clear and true but softened by a lisp,
head lightly tilted to one side
in dulcet tones
my pied visitor explained to me
about the coming of a darker season,
“your summers will fly by swift on robin’s wings
and your soul weighted black with shadow
and unreason”,
his beady eye took on a hardened glint
slightly shifting stance
balancing body from one leg t’other
one long drawn out glance
then a gruff reply
to my haunted cry
so then,
do not ever tell another lie