• A Monkey Named Taha

    The little monkey is awake,
    a twinge of joy he feels.
    He jumps on this and swings from that,
    as tasty things are coming.

    The garden of green is a prison to him,
    a place he does not like.
    He does not let it bother him, though,
    as he knows a trusted friend.

    The trusted friend, he is a good man,
    a man who tells lies to the Keeper.
    He tells them well but to the monkey not,
    as he is a secret ally.

    The secret ally has a lovely smile,
    a smile the monkey awaits.
    He brings to the garden a daily treat,
    as the monkey is one he loves.

    The love he shows is a fabulous thing,
    a thing that will surely not die.
    He shows it so well and is not afraid,
    as here there is no Keeper.

    The garden Keeper, he's not a friend,
    a friend is generous and gentle.
    He does not hit, he does not shout,
    as there is no violence in love.

    The hits they cause the monkey pain,
    a pain he doesn't deserve.
    He, the Keeper, enjoys it though,
    as pain is the key to keeping.

    The true key, however, comes with the sun,
    a sun that's here, now, but low.
    He, the monkey, looks up at the gate,
    as the treat is drawing near.

    The friend comes in with the treat in a pan,
    a treat called a waffle; it's square.
    He's covered it with nuts and syrup so sweet,
    as the waffle is vile alone.

    The smell is so good that the monkey claps,
    a clapping so fierce it hurts.
    He, the monkey, now feels ecstatic,
    as the waffle it is his favorite.