DECADENCE LOST

John Jacobs

Slime pours forth from a crystal chalice
into pools where we once swam.
I hear the silence of the ballroom,
screaming in my ears,
where we once danced, timeless in our youth
beneath the never-fading bright lights.
It is dark now,
and the ornate decorations
are but crumbling, cobweb-ridden memories.
When splendor turns to poverty,
and gold turns to brass—
behold, what was decadent
is now laughably innocuous.

On a wooden bridge I held you,
as petals fell around us like pink snow,
floating on the water,
drifting downstream.
We talked of love and forever,
we kissed again for the first time,
but somewhere in the trees
I heard a strong wind blowing.
I felt a cold wind blowing.

What I lost I never had,
for really, it was just a dream.
Splendor beyond all imaginings,
then gone,
drifting downstream.