A Bare Toothy Grin

gone are the days when frail old men appeared in the looking glass to be full of song and wine they sit back now and spin their tales on the summer night breeze with knitting needles and crayola crayons mischief in their eyes for the season is upon them no better place to reap ruin than midsummer night no better time than now polyester suits now march in unison cheap shoes clicking on the hardscrabble a bare toothy grin echoes the moonlight these once frail old men are a force to be reckoned with after all they march on through the pine forest of night into the creeping dawn they knit madly and draw with crayons recklessly in a crescendo of insanity's come to fruition these looking glass souls with cheap shoes and ties these johhny-come-lately wind up madmen gone are the days when you could dismiss them they have come to own the night when they hold court over all the world in the looking glass