With swishing, swaying somnolence, in eve
So slow and sound, a thought begins to stir.
A battle brews beneath the throat, but breathe
Past beating baubles, under flesh and fur

Concealed by waves and waves of reticence
The sun a blot on the horizon grey
In splendor faces glow with innocence
Though silently they scream in their dismay

Away, away, away they fall to dark
And disarray while children dream alone
They dream for shattered selves of gold, and hark!
The hammer falls upon them as t’would stone

Yet broken souls shan’t glimmer bright as whole
However well the storied tales extoll.