Fame

Now I have reached this ripe old age
Decay is sure to follow
And I know the fruits of labours past
Won’t sweeten your tomorrows.
What legacy have I to claim?
My legend does not enthral,
And shoes I’ve left for you to fill,
Are really rather small.
Have pity on your heritage,
There’s no heirlooms for you,
And the high horse I once treasured so,
Has long since gone for glue.
The shroud it has no pockets,
But if it did mine would be empty,
Except perhaps for lint and dust,
Of nothing I have plenty.
I have no fame on which to cling,
Or for you to inherit,
No mourning from adoring fans,
To sing of all my merits.
I have received no medals,
Not as much as a salute,
But I’d treasure notoriety
Or a house of ill repute.
My name will not span centuries,
Despite all my travails,
So I run on after infamy,
And hang from it’s coat tails.