Merrymakers

Everything comes and goes like this, boringly fast drills- look and it's passed. Sadness and thrills too are soldiers. There's no point in turning it over, and over. The visit, however quick and smooth warrants the quick and harsh pains. We're used to never going back. How is it sad? How can it be anything else, but we're miffed for thoughts of the ragged edges of what we've had- and all this, carrying our shiniest wrappings for merrymaking instruments to one day tarnish, that we'll collect as antiques and garnish our mantle-piece with them. Nostalgia is all the rage, so ignore the tea and collect the dish.