Blurred

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