The Trick Poem by William B. Deutscher

Don't count the treasure
buried out of hand,
never to be retrieved
whether by sea or land.

Don't deny the pleasure
sprawled upon the bed,
soon to be forgotten
fragments of wild red.

Don't reveal the ending
played upon the day,
listen without believing
to whatever we have to say.

Don't unsheathe the Claymore
drawn to high hill green,
signaled from the roadside
with a sunlit sheen.

The trick is still amusing,
pretend right back at you.
Indulgent memories
cosseted in blue.