Fama

A simple whisper floating upon the endless expanse of air
Spreading outwards from the wide-open jaws of that lady
Spreading outwards towards the sensitive ears
The ears of the listeners, struggling so sweetly
To hear the harsh words, the foul croak of her voice
So innocent, so trusting, so pitiful, so devoted
Reaching out with open arms for the whisper on the breeze
Accepting it willingly and sending it outwards
Sending the whisper floating once again on the breeze
And the old lady watches, her jaws slowly closing
She smiles and watches the listeners stop and stare
As they pass on the whisper, their hearts quickly beating
And believe every blessed word that they heard on the wind
And Fama, the lady, the woman of rumour
Collects up her skirts and walks slowly away
Her hair whips her face in the wind she created
As the whisper that floated now crashes and wails
And the listeners struggle so terribly and hopelessly
And hope what they've heard on the wind is not true
But they pass on her message and the whisper grows loudly
Until the air's endless expanse is filled with a shout
Spreading outwards from Fama as another rumour is told.