David Fleming
It's All Academic   www.davidflemingsite.com   
Recessional (To A Setting Son)

May 7, 2019

Of note, the ending arrived way too soon.

I've no idea what I'll do

As the emptiness fills the room,

While the embodiment of you

Trickles away into decrescendo.


In turn, the place still calls my name,

Drags me in all the same,

Work feels all the more vain,

The sore spots more inflamed

From the heat of innuendo.


By a measure, you became the outcome,

What was aspired in the long run,

Reminder of what's overcome.

With one final cord, I now succumb

To bondage and emotional ghetto.


A beat that hammers far beyond

Demands that I respond,

But now that you are gone,

Do I care to go on

When you are mascot, memento?


By count, you ended up the only one,

But now you are completely done,

The future I must soon confront,

With no escape from the affront,

Because the band turns to affrettando.