A brown drool of dew
Crackling woven's clue
sitting on a desk pike
adjacent copies alike

But still he sits and gapes
on the old momento he keepsakes
with sober hands that rests
and of mellow smith's vest

on a creaky chair
with a pendulum clock
and a photograph he holds dear
as four seasons pass by the dreary wedlock

Through a thin-tormented picture
shallow eyes become ruddy
like an ill-fated venture
The lost of his Mrs. and laddie

that dim sullen memento of his
in that old wan home
is what brings him bliss
but locked inside a semi-finite dome
-he is-

Proud, Curious.
She steps forward.
Taking in the sight of the beast.

Cautious, Senile.
She growls darkly.
Alerting it's peers.

She doth take yes,
Nay to No.

Proud, Curious.
She goes onward.
Into the world.