In Memoriam
 
My Precious was a famous star,
The one my world was run for;
So now my fond intentions are
To do as I was done for.
 
You know, of course, the heavy books;
The journalistic forays;
Those marvellous, satiric looks
At muddled modern mores;
 
The trips on AMNESTY’s behalf;
The talk-shows on TV;
And, somewhere in a photograph,
You may have noticed – me:
 
Tenderly sharing here my sum
Of memories so private,
Which you, in sympathy, may thumb,  
And sighingly connive at.  
 
Sweet details of a long decline!
The starry power has perished;
But, as you see, the burden’s mine,
And Precious still is cherished.
 
I wipe the sheets, I tie the shoes,
I pat each dying ember.
Such prizes, once!  Such interviews!
Believe me, I remember
 
Those triumphs – they’ve been told and told:  
The world once fairly shouted;     
But Precious now is sick, and old,
And I can write about it.

Julia Griffin
 
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Julia Griffin would be pleased to hear them.