Apathy

Twas’ near the desk and books and common things

Where common thought commonly turns to dream.

Here where tis common for the temptress sing

Slip seamlessly into this wraith-like stream.

He whispers soft for me to fall asleep.

He scares the newborn of the dismal fray.

He caused the preacher doubt his soul to keep,

While drunk on art and games the misled play.

He follows home the cautious like a fly

And whispers, “Rest your head beneath the sea,

You’re safe if apathy is near your side.

You’re safely tucked away right next to me”

He needed not to make them brash or strong,

But kept them from the sound of that sweet song.