The edge of the sun, finding it’s way
Around corners, and into places
Thought impregnable to any beneath
The equivalent of the peerage;
Lighting onto lawns vacated and
Luxuries unused, both to license and
To law; while trees, accustomed to
A type of vassalage, stand upright
In the presence of a sun that
Threatens them not, nor suffering
The daily indignities that their
Homelands had inured them to,
Knowing only that freedom feels
Much like depression, which feels like
Catering to a very ghostly type
Of clientele