They are low now,

near the flat.

They will soon be gone,

grown too long.

Almost white

they strip and shine,

they craft design,

and hide the line

of birth and natural.

It is extinct.

In these new days,

no normal stays.

But strange is calm,

and calm is good.

Our eyes translate,

debate, and recreate

what they feel is bright,

that makes sight.

Say goodbye,

dear highlight.