THE SNATCH OF SATAN

Such may be your plight
Though you’re not of wicked style
To get engulfed in mystery
By one who would defile.

It’s easy for buffoons
As far as follies go
To manipulate at fancy
As their evil doesn’t show.

Life whirls 'round in circles.
The story has been told.
Satan claims his fool
As pockets line with gold.

Sometimes your only wealth
Is just your own good name
And satan’s mark of excellence
Is its own brand of shame.

Barb Gedman