Devils In The Rhyme

[TarkovskyMirror]

There was a man named Carlton Thyme
Who knew the devil in the rhyme.
He suffered on his hands and feet,
Until one day he'd knead a treat
Of flour and eggs and honeydew:
The man found delicacies new;
And who attracted to the smoke
Did gurgle bile as he spoke?
But Lilleth's groom, who brought his sword
To thrust between the miller, awed
And hurt by ebbings of his time
Bequeathed by devils in the rhyme;
He wished for one last doughy romp,
Yet all he felt was mercies pomp:
A time to laugh, a time to cry,
A time to live, a time to die;
This time to lie as carrion
Conceal'd and pining for the sun;
And with the love that he had lost,
He'd found his bread so exquisite
But from his joy's prerequisite,
The devil supped the fateful cost.