Eyed, Spied! Poem by Michael Gale

This Summer's feast is spied by the eyes...
Does the eye, spy the spy?

Hence the watched, ever so candid...
Has the quarry finially been landed?

Eyes are always about and everywhere...
These eyes do continually, constantly stare.

Watching us seems ever so rampant...
Freedom is always ever as stagnant.

Controlled as by the watchful eye...
For once i wish to finally die!
01-03-2006'.




Michael Jeffrey Gale