In the riverbed I listened while the fishes swam and spoke;
The tales that they were weaving made me want to have a smoke
Of something much more potent than a Winston or Pall Mall,
But the room beneath the water had no butler and no bell.
Thus I could not call for hashish, so I tried to calm myself
By burning fragrant incense that I found upon a shelf.
The smoke set me to dreaming, and my arms fell limp at last,
I felt empty as a daydream from my mother’s distant past.
I fear you won’t believe me, nor the story that I tell,
So here’s the final word, my friends: I bid you all farewell.
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #230
More Poetry Pantry #492 at Poets United