The fabulist sat comfortably amidst
Adoring, attentive acolytes
He could spin stories skillfully
Dexterous, dazzling and full of delight!
As words flowed unhindered
His mobile face lit with myriad expressions
A fierce glow in his eyes
His hands moving animatedly
Weaving tales of fantasy and love
His heart swelling with emotions!
But when recounting tales
That told of human atrocities
His blood ran cold, his expression granite
For he had lost his only child
To such a dastardly, depraved deed
It filled him with seething rage
And ne’er could he forget the gruesome sight.