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Rusty Broadspear

The giant anteater, so remote from its usual habitat

Brushed by Silas - most of the furniture got wrecked.

Huge front legs, extended tubular mouth and long bushy tail.

Silas ignored the 60 pounder, he needed time to reflect.

His strange guests appeared to heal his writer's block,

Visiting Silas from nowhere, maybe three times a year.

Upstairs in his sock drawer he would find the Platypus,

Such strangeness, an oddity, a sleeping partner to revere.

As penguins chatter, a dream will be served to Silas tonight.

Known the routine thirteen years, since he was eighteen.

Walking to the kitchen, the grass carpet gave beneath his feet, 

He stopped, contemplating all around; this great scene.

A hot spring sprung forth from the sink, swirling through the door,

Salmon leapt through a mini rainbow, love-birds sang in tune.

Silas was reaching celestial heights, this was stimulation indeed,

Preparation for inspiration in a dream under the eye of the moon.

Some months later his new book was a world wide number one,

Millions of followers, old and new, were stunned by the splendour

Of hidden truths, imposing clues to beauty, goodness, love and life.

This was Silas's final tome, mission completed end of life's agenda.

S o


L ived

A ttaining

S ymbiosis

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