Although tis not alone in things that vex
The wyrm that heats my home with steam-filled coils
Infuriates me with its hissing, flex
Brought bangs, and bleak, black breath from burning oils
This tortured beast upon the walls has spit
A creeping ochre stain, metallic mold,
Developed from the ceaseless wheeze of it,
O’er many years of keeping away the cold
I have been crowded out by swarms of pests
On one side or the other of these walls
Assorted vermin and unwanted guests
Have driven me to leave these ragged halls
Another territory I outgrew
Another place I needed to pass through-D.M.D.M. 4/10/2015
