The Watcher
Here comes the Watcher heading toward the hemlock
Watching the world, becomes his wealth,
toward which he tails around you, to every place, today and tomorrow.
When The Watcher walks, time slows down
Bearing his name, watches die out.
For The Watcher walks forward, caring less about the weather, waiting
for your fate to take place.
People like you and me, prepare for the worst, peeping along the post down home,
where the watch of the night, nears around and touches neat and soft
the rim of your face, right becomes night, and vacations along the rim down low.
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