There it lay lazily in a sea of others like itself;
Well, in most things like itself,
For they all had that haggard carelessly drawn spherical shape,
Showered with burning brown, red and yellow,
And the dark hats, a vestige of parenthood,
Made them look like brothers.
But it just didn’t look the same!
The paleness plaguing its pelt,
The gayness around seemed to stay off it,
Though the concentration of joy and beauty around
Should have diffused directly through
The fibrous coat, to hit the core;
It just didn’t fit!
Could it be a fall-out of the prejudicial lighting,
Which threw shades through each kernel’s space
From the dim candle lighting up the room’s face,
Giving the weird spheres flickering weirder airs?
No. It was just that this horrid sight
Was wrought by warms eating right through its coat
Causing decay: poor thing.