One man
Lives up
To
See his
Last days,
Not spread
Out like
A picnic
Feast, but
Lined up
Short like
Index cards
In someone
Else's card
File, sat
On someone
Else's desk.
This must
Haunt and
Pull the
Ego, so;
Too short
And not
His own.
How the
Forehead
Lines will
Furrow,
Lashing
Actions
Here and
There,
Wherever
Decisions
Made of
His own
Will are
Called into
Some type
Of
Question.
Experience
Says that,
"I am
King";
In softer
Times
This age
Does shine,
But dull
At first
Does ring.

rjw, 3/24/97


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