(New Year and shamefully morose).
From here my life's a comic strip
the future wrinkled, faded, a torn
final edition, an easy read, with
no surprises, none expected
the epilogue looming,
the good man wins
but dies trying.
My characters are now played out,
the hero, the villain, the lover, the fool
all back in wardrobe,
their destinies hang lifeless, hollow
as my ghosts foxed and burred,
hiding between my anniversaries,
I am soon to be a back number.
© Graham Sherwood 01/2015
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