The Misanthropist Farts

Every time I pass one

my heart doth sweetly sigh:

the essence of our inner selves

diffuses by and by.

Every time I hear one

I sweetly tender smile:

The auditory sign of Man

endures but for a while.

Every time I sense one,

my spirit doth awake:

the evidence of our presence

must vanish ‘neath Time’s rake.