Serving Thyme

The years pass on by yet all seems so fresh,
my memories  don’t dull or dwell on why I’m here.
An unfaithful love, avenged  nicely by me
through poison I  brewed in my own special tea.
I’m paying the price for the deed that was done
And though  it is ‘Open’ this prisons no fun!
But I never let people see the true me,
I’m helpful and kind, I’m a trusted trustee.
Each day when I  work outside of my jail
the farm shop and gardens just let me inhale
the sweet smell of freedom I still so long for,
but know that the path I am taking is sure
to keep me inside for even more years
but somehow that thought doesn’t hold any fears.
You see, I’ve a cellmate she brash and unkind
And clearly  knows nothing of what’s in my mind.
I noticed one day as I walked by a stream
A lacy white flower …a poisoners dream
It looked for the world ,when all crumbled..like thyme,
as trustee I cook in the kitchen sometime..
Today I will make my own sweet recipe
and serve it my cellmate,then sit back and  see.
My stuffing ball filled with the hemlocks sweet lace
stuffed greedily into her fat pudgy face.
Then watch as she writhes and contorts on the floor
and ask her if maybe she would like some more?
I don’t really think that my deed was a crime
Because I’m in here and I’m  just serving Thyme!

Poets note..written following inspiration from Shaun Cronick comments and  as a follow up to 'Revenge..One lump or two?'