Crazy times for all the mimes left without a word to say

or a soul to tell

A soul to let in on all their smiles

A secret guardian deaf to the voices of these mimes

-----

Spatter the matter of a mute mime dancing

More than the eye can see from the activity of motion

Left with the commotion of a broken glass

Left to be picked up by someone else

Left-handed in a world of right of ways

-----

It's my turn to go so let me

Politely please the players' regime in a lovely world

With mimes talking of a subject long awaited

but not dated

-----

A modern twist of an old subject

shall not be left to the side

discarded, worn, abused and forgotten

but left to me

deciding decrees to drop dark sorrows over the edge of insanity

while we listen to mimes' stories

with much action, more decision and an infinite array of mortality

A mime knows me...