The Cinnamon Man

I found him dancing around the water,

Waiting for carnations to bloom.

He was a cinnamon man, 

Wearing an ill-intended suit.

With a looming stream of thought,

I thought surely it was the end.

Doom was falling like knives,

The man he did pretend. 

But there I saw through his twisted gaze,

An orange flower from the deep.

Closer to the cinnamon man I went,

And the blossom went to sleep.