The sensibilities seemed to subside,

Gouged by the glasses and driven out by drink,

Noise rare in the room, for in dreams most would hide,

Of the flood of thoughts that all and none would think

The ice in the cider seemed to shine,

That glimmer glistened in the night,

A sight so seemingly sublime,

A perfect picture of happiness at its height

The teeming tranquility endured for hours,

With distances dropping slowly into smaller view,

And to prolong the scene, we'd exchange all our earthly powers,

As to observe the wearily windowed world anew

Albeit too soon, with the unknown, the dream began to fight,

And through it all, the fantasy began to fade,

As gasping, so suddenly drowned out by the light,

It also screaming upon being burned out by the day.