Like little men with purple feet <br />though some with floppy ears, <br />they move with poise and innate grace <br />through common mists <br />and yellow fog, <br />possessed of restless souls <br />and driven by exotic sounds. <br />These are the words we know, <br />like hands across a gorge <br />which, cruelly, demands the toll <br />of sacrifice from those who pass. <br />The resonance of utter specificity <br />which shuns all shame of mediocrity, <br />lays open welcome laws and rules. <br />And, <br />with time and honoured gestures of sheer class <br />it wipes away impertinence and fools.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/words-31/
