You tell me of the songs,
The tales and epics of the age,
Far gone, speaking through passing throngs,
The budding romance of the page,

What language must I rhyme?
To hear again the old refrains,
How I long the vantage of a time,
Far gone, it's precepts and it's pains,

A puddle for a mirror,
A dusty way to meekly gain,
A glimpse of sweet humanity,
Far gone in all her ways but one remain.

When feet are small for tasks,
Ahead. The way is steady on,
But we will walk as they who ask,
Yes, slowly we will see it won.

'Math Challenge'd,
I scribble away,
Racking my brain,
Racking the lead,
To crack the codes,
To grasp the shapes,
To shade circles as they said.