The Sycophant
To Whom it may concern
They wring their hands and writhe at his heel
Impatiently awaiting their next verbal meal
Of irony and pain, wit and wry,
Their craving intense, they cannot deny
With clever word and clever verse
He needs no practice; no rehearse
As images flow with furrowed brow
"They want their meat, they want it now!"
So with rapid pen and razor mind
The next one act play starts to unwind
Of lovers past and lovers lost
He bears his soul, no matter the cost
They devour, they savor each single word
Replies follow, and like a timid bird
Eagerly hoping their attempts are heard
and with each expectant, arduous appeal,
Hoping his heart they might selfishly steal
With clever verse and clever word
from the other hungry sycophants.
