A group passed by,
A bystander was I,
The trees stood barren,
The lamplight burned, blazing,
The heavens were cloudless.
The leafs were a turquoise blue,
The lamp, a titian inferno,
The trunks made dark dravites,
Reflecting little pieces of light.
The crypted mountains were vesuvianites,
The land, a danburite.
The boy passed the dravites,
Trudged on the howlites,
And when he looked up,
I, as a bystander, saw his eyes,
Silent as graphite.
And now, when all hope was lost,
When the flakes were meant to be lost,
Mother Nature took pity on this down-ridden soul,
And sent down a barrage of anglesites,
Which he only saw as