Pan in middle age

je ne t’aime plus, mon amour
je ne t’aime plus, tout les jour

Pan in middle age

a seducer, a child-thief
now greying, jobless and loveless
sleeps in a tiny room, the rent-free cupboard of an obliging friend
his bed covers once stained crimson by virgins’ blood,
(witness to the sweet thrust and die of lost innocence)
show a faint rust on threadbare
fading flags of glory,

Pan works up a crooked grin,
(add toothless to his catalogue)
an outworn traveller, who has found respite in a former colony,
in a city bar
a good time is a cheap bottle of piss
his hips shadow a swagger and
in the semi darkness
he charms with a worn stub of chat up patter,
a whiff of Chaucer,
he earns a smile,
and feels he is not so very far from Ratcliffe Highway after all.

Pan in middle age

TheWidowChing

Joined February 2008

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  • robtclements
  • TheWidowChing
  • robtclements
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