Passers-By

A clear sounding crash not far off

Has gone and left my wits aloft.

I find this common everyday

Where passers-by stop and stay.

A thought provoked by damn-ed wits

Convince me to stop and think a bit.

And speak to men on chairs with wheels,

And ask them bluntly how it feels.

For a crooked man is much despised,

And they say dead men can tell no lies,

But I’ve seen this place both low and high

When I stopped to watch the passers-by.

—Brian Geisler