“The Trespassing Mesmer had welcomed the newcomer

To the festival of garland lights;

Traversing the gas field fights.

The Rotund Divider had  done away with the newcomer

Left to the decomposed waste lands;

Nervous in the state of the hungry hands.

The old timer had poised real thought on his challenges

From the glow of the fresh moors

To the cruelty of the closing doors

He knew the past was his to lose

And he lost it”

The quiet listener was melancholy in consideration

With a chill to the rattling bones;

And a lesson that she now owns.