Garden walls

Blooming wells

Dancing halls

Myriad hells

Gaffes on Dreher

Dead eyed stare

The sorts that disappear

Static glare

Woodpanneled and antique

You look pretty on the stair

I may as well be speaking Greek

Yea, I live there

Selling metros to the dealer

Beneath my hair

Time is the healer

I can spell it out

So I do

Though I’d rather shout

As we disintegrate from view

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