The Solitary Sea
Chirpy chipmunks chirp sassily
from faraway fig trees;
beneath the blue sky, bees buzzzz.
While wiggly, wee little girls whoop and wheeze,
gaily giggling, gagging gasping for air!
The sweet sisters sing swaying, saucily along!
The decisive dad deerstalkes his deer:
camouflaging colors, coughing, and cocking his rifle,
hushing his happy harpy girls: Layla and Lynn.
Hidden and hiding haunting the hills,
hand-in-hand hurdling the hares,
gliding, gracefully through glistening, glimmering grass!
Peeping and peeking from their private place,
concealed, contained covered and cloaked,
buried below green bundles of grass:
Veiled, yet vivacious vexes their hunter!
A killer who kills for kicks, for sport!
A clatter, a clamor coming from green clovers!
A noisy noise noticed within a nifty nook.
Rapidly! Raising the rifle, it runs!
Slicing, slashing, slitting severing the green sea!
It stops. Suddenly, scratching the sea gate!
A piercing scream pierces the palmy day!
The hunter hungrily hunts for his prize.
Searching, seeking he steps upon the scene.
Spying, spotting he spots, he sees:
He perceives the pierced, porous hole.
Penetrating and parting her pretty peel,
laying lackluster, lifeless lays--Layla.
Startled, stunned, staggering shock spills
slowly slithering into slimy screams!
Lynn shrieks! Shouts aloud! Shrilling squeals!
The faulty father falls fast
upon his knee. Kneeling, knowing, noticing
the hole: Layla lays hopeless and hollow.
Her existence expired, extinct; departed, deceased, decreased.
