A man of eight once met his fate
in traveling the world forlorn

He was a mammoth not strong, yet
slender and long, a bugaboo but brittle and tawdry

Now you ask, Did he last?
My reply is one of brevity...

Hear now weary woodsman I give
thee the tale of Thimey the brooding oarsman

He lived in a hovel, hideously huge;
Slept in a hammock on hideaway hill;
Pleasant were his days...

Too bad for him, the world turned over,
he jostled into a daze...

Have I lost you yet? Never forget
poor Thimey a mighty bugaboo...

His mind once strong now aged in reverse
Why you ask? Be it a curse begotten by God above

"Hmm"God pondered, "an indolent man, a manicured ham,
has ignored the world's state of affairs;
Has put on heirs far too long...
Foolish, flagrant man

Love lost, feeling undone, never to be sung in song...
See the skylark fly from up above?
Serendipity harmonizes with the eternal dove
reserved for those with unyielding love,
Thyme don't repose but pine for above....

Should he be cast to sea?
Or be made to see the errors of his misguided ways...

I'll return this swine to a creation of pine!" God mused,
"Indeed a walking tree; with a new state of mind!
One who in absence of how to find
old hideous hideaway hill...

A new found nasturtium I model him in;
a world so long forgotten...

Soon shall he embrace his fellow kin, consisting of men,
whom he handled with sin; Woe! His heart as indifferent as tin...

They shall embrace this young thinking pine tree..." The creator
let out a sigh, "A thing made of thimble with a mind not so nimble"
He shall get his slice of the pie...

"To never re trod isolated pleasantries fraught with feigning
fraudulent of lazy inaction..."

"Well" said he "I'll allow it to be"
and God's word made swine into pine...

As man becomes flesh, flesh becomes man
never again shall old Thyme know...

To wander his days a curious tree
a tipsy, thinly fellow...

And so it was done!
The swaying hammock hurled undone,
as wood singed through the fibers...

For I tell you now friend, don't offend
the man-made Thyme was born into pine!

The world anew shall Thimey go through
Poor, poor Thimey...

by P.T.R.