Irony

a poem by Roger B Rueda

I scrutinised the closed, clever face
of the mischievous sprite
for any hint
of irony, but found none.
No, it wasn’t a dream –
it was real.
Its actions were harsh
and loud, but its words
so fair like
the falling cottons
from auburn kapok pods,
light and at leisure.
Its soul was rancid,
its words sweet-scented.
Its thoughts were bursting
with expletives,
suspicions, spites –
what it said was ‘I love you!’