For the lab ghosts among us

A toast if proposed would do no right
By the few honored spectres of the night
Who, left by comerades to pick up the tab
Carry on in the dark recesses of the lab

When mortal hands are still and eyes in compliance
Theirs dance to the slow solemn song of science
Alert but deaf to a clock's beseeching chime
All senses sharp but the only sense of time

From the East a Sun declares war
On the sleepy moon and lazy snore
There they stand now, dazed and worn
bitterness in a voice full of scorn

Scorn for those that complain of waking up at eight
And having to endure this cruel and unusual state
Quiet they remain, muted by the hours spent alone
Infernal fatigue, for what vile sin will this atone

Solemn oaths passed here and there never to return
There they are again wary and full of dire concern
With no choice but to embark on their nightly missions
Slipping back into the shadows, these hapless apparitions

Cry for them if you must laugh if you choose
Take care though not to fall into their shoes
What they endure to you might be vague
Like the cluless jester amidst the plague

And the next time you sit before your screen
You may be shocked at what your eyes have seen
For something is surely amiss or out of place
When ghosts from graves can wear a human face!