He sits in a corner

all cuddled in a ball.

He sings an ancient rhyme.

He looks in your eyes with fear.

A brief moment of silance.

An ancient voice rings near.

Around him a shattered wall.

As his voice gives a call.

"Watch out for that fall."

The wall tumbles down rocks

scatter all around, yet there

is no sound. He is the

Poet at dusk looking across

A fated sky and sitting

In a corner all wrapped up

not, knowing where he is

going or why time is passing by.