Hovering, fluttering like a caged fountain of colour
My net is full with each and every one
And oh! will Vellis be able to stand a bit taller
Proudly displaying the work I have done!

I wonder at the countless piles of coin he will gift,
At all the sweets I can buy with my wealth
How willing Martina'd be to give my gold pouch a lift
And help me ruin my teeth and good health

But what is this puncturing into my sweet reverie?
What are those eyes that make my legs feel stone?
In all my daydreaming, I've stumbled, quite uncleverly,
Upon the basilisk in its green home

As my vision fades to black and I lament my wealth lost,
I watch as pretty coloured wings escape at a pretty cost


Penned by my hand on the 14th of Sarapin, in the year 421 AF.