And my wool grew scruffy and rugged

And there slipped a lice; part of my unrest.

It craved a portion of me; I gave it two,

It craved it also, gladly I gave it too.

Before it lain me bare on a high alter of its gluttonous parade.

Looking forward to my glistening toasty thighs,

But I suggested to be seasoned in pepper and salt speckles:

If I am served; then let me lay a grand banquet.

When life was always a free field and

A blind shepherd its steward: unless he could see,

I came back to myself

And tore the rope and wandered a mile.

‘A thousand seconds aren’t enough when you are free.’

Then my wool felt something strange,

I was in the midst of a howling pack.

In their bliss rose my fright; they wanted a piece of me.

“Dump pack if I could lend you my coat and teach you how to bleat.

Then you can wander in the flock whenever.

And choose the best for your bellies, all I know is am the lanky one.” I appealed.

Lend I did; in a hurry he came back for me,

Blindly; he left with one of them.

A poem by Tonny Wandella