He’s Wished Much Adieu So a cycle ends in a new beginning As the obit flags us a reminder still: That, under time’s unrelenting march, Each a sojourn’s end is closer drawn The living, such as chastened, repair To charity and some cause of worth So the dead depart to enliven the living Mourning evokes somber ironies of life The living, oft at rage and rife with strife, Renounce rancor for the stead of concord Even if a truce be for a mere teary season As soon, bile returns; the hapless to poison Now, though, to him, who’s soon to enter The raconteur’s repertoire, a pale tribute: No more the footfalls in the hallowed hall (Such is the serendipity at a sojourn’s end) But not so the footprints that were etched In the sands of time and depths of memory: They were a heft of mind lent a generation They were a playful sport in the commons They were quiet glories of duty to a nation In a mood somber, he’s wished much adieu!