I hath met Munger at dawn's first light,
His wisdom flowed, unabashed by night.
In lines of candor and insight stark,
With life and death his pen did mark.

Once firm as granite, now Goldman's plight,
Apples cold shoulder, a bitter sight.
Their clasp did break, on road's hard bend,
A fool's wager, did ill contend.

News from the Market, a restless sprite,
In venture and loss, takes flight by night.
In dances of numbers, a tale unfolds,
Its rhythm speaks more than gold behold.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur