A curse of the times
the bane of fortune
as dollars or dimes
a boon opportune

A passionate fervour
of myriad hues
of unbounded power
and limitless use

A sorry metaphor
for painless compromise
with angles that differ
as the rolling dice

To buy consciences
and way-laying dreams
taming cats on fences
and tether flowing streams

But loses clout
at the hands of few
fails without doubt
to match those you knew

The haughty glow
of a proud mother’s eyes
or on a labourer’s brow
the dance of fire’n ice