How could they do it to this man?
This tired, and threadbare artisan.
Healing art used over years,
Restoring body, blotting tears.
All he’s seen in times gone by,
Lines in his hands, these stories lie.
Everyone a different tale,
Calloused palms, hard times regale.
Now it seems his tools are worn,
Blunted, rusted, faded, torn.
His treasured craft stood times advance.
Usurped now by dalliance.
Everything now quick to change,
All he knew they re-arrange.
He eyes the young man by his side,
And wonders how he’ll fare in time?