Cold and stormy nights
Are the nights when the best plans are laid
Such was that night
The night of the revolt
The night of the great escape
The farmer, by day
Sat at his stone
And sharpened the blade
For the big cut was coming
The hogs had been fattened
And winter approached
All three pigs had the greatest of summers and autumns
They dined like well-heeled kings
And never mine, the horses with warning
For life couldn’t get any better
Heaven must be like this
But what about the ideas, the plans?
What about all the talk of leaving?
About the want to be free
All too many meals
Soaked too long in the good life
The farmer was their friend
And nevermind the sharpened blade
Nevermind the grinding
Nevermind the horrible thoughts
Of all the pigs before
They never had it so good
These pigs knew what they had
They weren’t fools
This was the life
And they would stay put
With all the care and all the feasting
Until their dying day
© Dicky J Loweman 2015
Nice.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks, Chuck.
LikeLike