The Goldsmith

Like a fossil, a relic of a long past time,
I ply my trade in tedious ways,
Create my precious jewels, lovingly and fine,
While automation slowly does my trade erase,
Yet, till my dying breath will I battle the machine;
For the conformity and artlessness of modern times,
I simply do not have the spleen.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2006 Alfred Charasz