an emerald lake
gleaming under light
a shadow envelopes
its crestfallen wight

the creature resonates a shrill
and the adolescence withers, so frail
beaten by the tyrants of modern drill
the wight thirst for Mother's milk

and while the dank shadow
beats the surface of emerald waters
the shore begins to weep of sorrow
with eyes trailed by that of fathers

the storm brews and the wight lays
concealed, nonexistent, and cold as stone
where has gone the golden ray
and the emerald green where the youth once roamed