You know when you're growing old - when all the hero's are gone - except Mick Jagger - though he was never one of mine.
(Image. Ian Drury and Wilco Johnson courtesy of Wikimedia)
All the Legends
All the legends of my youth have now left.The rock stars, the actors, and the comics;
with their easy laughter without regrets,
and their casual grace of irresponsibility.
My life was lit – like a moth to their flame,
easily becoming consumed in their fame:
priests of pleasure with their pleasure spent,
upon the idle altar of amusement.
Carelessly, we kicked the sun into the moon,
As the nights became pups to our dog days.
But youth must have its end – as all too soon,
the sun ate the day – and swallowed the moon.
All things shall pass away – they cannot stay,
and what is gone is now lost in the past.
So, friends it’s no longer weed and guitars;
just a beer, and a deckchair on the grass.
© D G Moody 2023
Poetry by D G Moody
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Written on 2023-02-07 at 16:12
Tags Nostalgia 
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