The Final Note

Alone I sit upon my throne; alone I eat my meals.

The meat I have, the clothes I wear, the ring I bare reveals,

None in the land has such as I; none held in such regard.

Yet none I meet in daily walk can comprehend how hard.

I do recall, oh yes, the days where more like them I was.

We frolicked daily, friends and I, caring not but for to pause,

And watch the clouds and feel the sun and wait for each new day,

But now these thoughts…they matter not. Such times have passed away.

Each day is now a scripted scene, wherein I play my part.

I glitter when I walk; I flutter when I speak, so as to win the heart,

And stand as he who all look to and state, “wish I were him”.

Ha!  Such a wish, and to what end…empty heart dressed imperially slim.

In death, come morn, they’ll find me here.  In shock they’ll question why,

The man who had the lion’s share would ever want to die.

No answer can I offer, no…none that can suffice.

Hold only dear, the ones you love.  A dying man’s advice.

                                                Signed:  Richard Cory