Fingers clutched tight
Around math-matical schemes
The alley's shadow grows, as he whispers on by
Slate blackboard too heavy, yet all's been erased.

Cobblestone street where footprints have dried
To a two inch oak door, where the treasure resides
Black beady eyes try to make their way
On numbers and symbols worked on that day.

Candle burning bright, wicks almost used up
Moonlight gets shadowed by passing night clouds
As the window of six disappears from the floor
Black beady eyes bloodshot and sore.

Goblet of wine echoes where it sits
Sounds of the night, small rippled bits
The streets are alive
Black beady eyes can't quit.

Another log on the fire as he paces, head in hands
Perhaps, just one shot, of rum understands
What the paper means, he holds in his hands.
As he tries to collect the thoughts in his head
His beady eyes blacken his mind is in bed.

Sleep came by
Black beady eyes house
Yet, passed over the roof
With not making a sound!

Stone tile floor his feet kept in pace
Fifteen thoughts and another
He knew he just had time to erase
As his scheme seemed too backfire.
Too little too late.

Blew up in his face
For he'd not had the mind
To figure it out
In his corner he sat, and his lip's shouted out!


~Bentlee~