“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.