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Bernard de Silva
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« on: January 28, 2012, 12:20:05 PM » |
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Reflections, In a Late Night Bar.
“Yesterday’s Hero”.
To a cursory glance, he displayed little, bar nonchalance,
and a forced joviality ideas of despondent nature forbade,
yet orbs withheld a lustre, which fortunate faces enhance.
Lone minds, often seek solace in echoes, of past accolade.
It seems none now remember, his vast ability, or prowess,
no eyes light, in recognition, not a greeting hand extends.
The mind dwells in times of past glory, acclaim, to excess,
“Yesterday’s Hero” is a title, those forgotten most offends.
Where are they now, all the fawning, fair weather friends?
All the dross, who queue and then stand to drink their fill,
move on to greener pastures when all the freeloading ends.
There are ever, reigns of glory, a fresh hero, to foot the bill.
His face in the bar room mirror returns resignation’s stare,
he looks to all new arrivals, prays for just one familiar face.
Not one notices his presence and nary a soul, seems to care,
thought, reverts to glory and the steps one never can retrace.
His pleasure, is perhaps that, of a sardonic grin he displays,
ill matched to the eyes, haunted it seems, by visions of fame.
It plays upon lips quivering at times from all memory arrays,
Fate’s legacy to forgotten heroes, meagre pawns in the game.
©. Copyright: Bernard de Silva…Friday, 27 January 2012.
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