That was my alias which was one of many
As for many years I was a spy
Who was so far underground
That I rarely surfaced for air
I lived in hostile cities
Watching and listening
Arranging collections and drops
In all I was an ant who although
In the plain sight remained invisible
As people could not see me clearly
But that was many years ago
And now I own a number of daffodil farms
Which bring me a comfortable living
I have named my fields after artists
Caravaggio Vermeer and Ingres
They bring me a happiness
That I have rarely experienced
Daffodils are such settled flowers
In my safe there a slim wooden box
Which is about six inches in length
And is full of diamonds
These are my currency
Next to this box of wonders
Is a loaded revolver
Which I have used before
And am prepared to use again
Should the need arise
I stole these diamonds
From a oil millionaire
As he had no further use for them
Because he was dead
Next to his assassin
Who I had shot in self defence
With the very revolver
That lies hidden in my safe
There are new gangsters today
But I do not really care
As I have done my bit
For my country and so much more
Although it has never personally thanked me
As far as I know I never existed
People chased shadows in the hope
Of finding me but it was a useless task
As to be found was to exist
That was why I was so successful
Both of my operators are now long dead
No files exist that would incriminate me
I am the spy who never was now lost forever
In time I will reveal my bloody hand
As such secrecy is bad for the soul
Until then
A Salon