Brittle cheese

A gavel slams onto the oak

Rippling sound

Decibels for your auditory tracks that echo in your head like a pinball bouncing off each

Bang

Hit

Boom

Thwat

Ting and jing-a-ling

Lights sparkle and songs play

It has been decided from which all that matters…matters and all that does not… does not

A panel was carefully meticulously selected in a room with no windows and a door

Days they met to come to the consensus that they have arrived at

A man who goes without too long

Loses that bit

Brittle like old cheese

Left out on the hillsides in France

Dry and rough

As the wind blow to crumble what was once strong