Gloria Monday

Sic transit gloria mundi

——————

As the smoke fades and blends in the moonlight

there is just an echo, a simple echo

one of many heard throughout the ages

 

An echo of a note that never had a chance to grow

and now flown far in the mists of time with

the sound of all those Christmases yet to come

 

Gone now and perhaps forever

 

The point past chance

has now tip-toed off into darkness

dressed in the shroud of pride

 

A silence where a smile might be

an ache to be dulled with the codeine of time

and washed down with Absolut on ice

 

Gone now and perhaps forever

 

And the will when read, had a terrible price

the artifice of it all, a haunting cost

one which he was always going to pay

 

He didn’t turn out well for the big event

the clothes did not fit and soon

they will be boxing him one last time

 

Gone now and perhaps forever

 

He never was much good at sitting

and he never liked to heel

not fond of rosettes or silverware either

 

Let others have their sweet victories

if they want them so very much

even Gloria Monday was sick in the transit

 

Gone now and perhaps forever

 

And so he in turn becomes

But an echo, a simple echo

A whisper on the wind and in the mind

 

Like all echoes he reverberates

for a little while off the canyon walls

and then he passes into eternity

 

Gone now and perhaps forever