Most jacks of my trade have all known the thirst
That fights off slumber’s alluring request.
Passing of time makes an appetite worse
As our hazy eyes envision the best.
The great one craved the juniper berry
While his muse parted with more of her mind.
Into his life my empathies flurry;
For the pages of our past know no bind.
Inscription on glass matters to me not,
My hand has finished off more than a few.
Most have included a sinister plot
That ends with a dawn where hope is anew.
The world plays witness to my constant show,
Adjusting brows with each high and each low.