A story told in the raspy gasps and whispers
of old men whose only choice then was to remain,
as their fathers and grandfathers had, where
the days were as dark as the nights.

Where are they now, the young men who worked to keep
you warm in Winter, to boil the water for your coffee?

A pair of worn, black socks hanging out to dry?
Two withered figs clinging to a dead branch?
And why does their laughter sound so mechanical?