The Kiss An Egyptologist of yore, Broke in through the secret door, Fell through the portal to a floor, Strewn with treasures, rich galore, Did he, Did he. He entered in despite the dark. His quest no ordinary lark, The chance to finally make his mark. To light his lamp, he struck a spark, To see, Did he. Upon the walls, in ancient hues, Fading reds, yellows and blues, It was the artwork of some muse, Scribed to carry forth the news, Of old, In gold. Hieroglyphs, and drawings there, Gave him pause, made him stare, Searching memory to compare, The warning given those who dare, Come in, 'Tis sin. Deciphered words he did not fear, No matter penalty severe, Though spoken plainly, pure and clear, A curse on him who enters here, They said, They said. A curse of death upon the head, Of all who do not fear to tread, This hallowed cavern of our dead, And blithely come, ignoring dread, It said, He read. Upon discovery's precipice, He saw the stone fall near, and miss, But did not hear the warning hiss. He felt the deadly serpent kiss, The hiss, The kiss. Upon the ancient floor he lay, Beneath the portal to the day, Bound by pain, in great dismay, Having only this to say. A hiss. A kiss. Columns broke and ceiling fell, Below him opened up a well, Some passage to an ancient hell, Leaving us no more to tell. To tell. Oh, well. copyright ©2009 Wayne Hepburn All Rights Reserved Text by author. Illustrations: licensed stock art. Photo: Hieroglyphs from the tomb of Seti I, . copyright free at wikimedia commons