"You Are Old, Lucien LaCroix"
by Celeste Hotaling-Lyons
"You are old, Lucien LaCroix," the young mortal said,
"And you've lived a long while past your prime.
And yet you incessently rise from the dead,
To harrass your young partner-in-crime!"
"As a Roman," LaCroix replied with a glare,
"I ordered vast troops to their death.
Though I'm dead now myself, I really don't care,
To complain now is not worth the breath."
"You are old," said the mortal, "and set in your ways,
The purveyor of trouble and strife!
Yet you keep yourself busy through all the long days
And each decade, you pick a new life!"
"For a vampire, it's true," said the unending one,
"The nights are forever and ever!
When the ennui's too much, I'll walk into the sun,
But to do so now wouldn't be clever!"
"You are old," cried the mortal, his finger a-shake,
"And you've been a most un-contrite cad!
Yet you're only depressed at the thought of a stake--
Why so cheerful, although you're so bad?"
"Yes, it's so," said the ancient, who cruelly smiled,
"I am happy, except now and then,
Only Nicholas knows how to get me all riled
He provokes me again and again!"
"You are old," said the mortal, who then looked away,
"You love blood, and I'm not talking 'cow'!
And yet you admire the music we play,
Tell me who is the hypocrite now?"
"I have answered three questions, and you're out of luck,"
Said the vampire, his eyes glowing yellow.
"I've been looking for someone whose blood I could suck,
So come here, my fine, meddlesome fellow!"
Best wishes from Celeste, votre cousine