Crocodile Ball

OK, I can't guarantee that this is finished; there may be some word replacements, etc., or maybe I will just pretend it never happened, but I am about to toss it across the room now (so many reasons I don't usually rhyme these things!) so I pronounce it done.



Crocodile Ball

On a clear, warm night in a polished hall
on the shore of Deep Lake is the crocodile ball.

By the light of the moon they slip lithe to the shore;
They swish through the grass and slide onto the floor.

With their sharp teeth so polished and gems on their scales
with rings on their claws and garlanded tails,

caimains and gharials and gators and crocs
step lightly to waltz and the trot of the fox.

Their eyes swirling golden, they want to be seen
their frocks made of velvet, and everywhere sheen

and glintings of ribbon and pearl; it’s the truth
that nothing shone brighter than each polished tooth!

The music skirled silkily over the lake
and drove the sleep from me; though it be a mistake

I could not resist its alarming allure.
Gaping with pleasure and awe, I was sure

that I had to be dreaming, the sight was so fine;
A croc saw and grinned widely, purred “pleasure is mine!”

And before I scarce knew it, as if in a trance,
we whirled, snapped and spun in a crocodile dance.

The rest is quite blurry; you know how time flies
swiftly past in a glittering of tails, claws and eyes

I was so overwhelmed by how fine, I admit;
the wild greeny-gold and the splendor of it

that I found myself loving the claws in my hand
and their broad toothy grins, the wild cries and the swing of the band!

We’re so pleased, the croc said, in that same silky purr;
When I looked all around, saw how many there were

I confess sudden tension. Stepping backwards with care,
I found myself blocked by the large gator there.

Of course it was night and the hour was late,
the dancing was fast and their hunger was great.

“Oh we can’t have you leaving, you simply must stay
for our dinner, and surely you want it this way?

You wouldn’t go now!” Ah, the beast was polite
So polished his scales and so warm was the night

and sharp were his teeth. So he led me back in
to the hall, where I met with each crocodile grin.

On a night when the lakewaters polish each star,
you know crocodillians all, near and far

Will slide from the swamps to their gala soiree
to glide, step and promenade, glitter and play;

And I regret nothing. On that evening, it’s true
things changed a great deal, but still, wouldn’t you

have wanted to see it, so smooth and sublime?
The dance was quite fine and the pleasure was mine.

From the mist on the lake to the lights in the hall
even ghosts love the splendor of crocodile ball!