Shot down in its prime.
Shot down
While making daisy chains in the park
For little girls to be daisy queens.
Shot down
While tottering down the catwalk
In this years daring fashion.
Shot down
While bungee jumping from Brooklyn bridge.
Shot down
While kite boarding on Porthmadog beach
Shot down
While refusing ecstasy at a rave,
High on the beat and energy of the music
Shot down
While drawing a moustache on Mona Lisa
And carrying Michelangelo’s David
Back to its rightful place in the square,
Where he can enjoy the sunshine, rain and wind
In his hair.
Shot down in its prime.
Lying dead now
On a cold white slab.
Experts dissecting its liver and heart,
Picking over interesting bits.
Sew it back together
Please.
Don’t leave it in the fridge.
Give it a decent burial,
Leave it some dignity
And let me weep for it,
Shot down in its prime.
Sallie Howson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-of-a-poem/
