Sire Poem by Eli Spivakovsky

come to me, captain
come strongly
and let the little bells lace your way
when you are tired
I will peel you up
and retire with you
so you can see the dew sparkle on the plains
and the petite butterflies hover around the dew
and the sunburst-beams bounce around the butterflies
And let me tell you all about the sky
and how it sank for us that day
when you ordered your men to 'eat dust'
and throw themselves to war
And how the caleum composed itself
to be like a child's bounty
only to fall the very next day
So you were my captain
So I had lots of them: 3!
And you were my third, monsieur, bien sur!
No, you were my first
And I labelled you as such
When we first met I laughed at you
When we last met I weeped for you
liquid silver the same colour as those petite butterflies
the same colour as your chain-mail
the same colour as the iris-swirl
How I do miss you, my sweet-heart
your heart did bounce around a lot
in my hand when you died
what a strong and noble heart you did have
I ate it with my meal
So I could be one with you
So that your heart would bounce around inside me
And you would fight many more battles
As you wished, sire