The Guest
The haze and buzz I hardly hear
Of sleepy mosquito on his lip
I sit and wonder as I stare
The tiny guest too quick to sleep
He moves his lips with reasons known
And does the guest in same rhythm dance
Either of them be taken for clown
If quick glance miss the buried lance
Out he pulls to circle his tongue
In goes the head of guest in sleep
Dances danced but songs unsung
Only have I but reasons to weep!
(lance: spear for hunting or fishing: a long pointed spear used in hunting or fishing. synonyms: spear · weapon · bayonet · javelin. Lance=sting of a mosquito in this poem)
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