Becoming Sir

Becoming Sir

There was that time, when I was nippy,

At the heels of every adult in the room:

Precocious, idealistic, boundless.

Making “purples orange” and “orange grapes.”

Fond remembrances into the future.

Then there was a time when I was snappy,

Biting off more than rightly chewable:

Industrious, prolific, profound.

“Both-ended candle burning.”

Making captured dreams real.

And then that time when I was silly,

Taking luck and blessings for granted:

Feckless, thankless, entitled.

In “Gut-rotted, foot-trodden puddles.”

Giving nothing back to the ether.

Then, cynical and angry, bully,

Consumed with loss and sacrifice:

Self-absorbed, equivocal, suicidal.

“But golden gold unending.”

PoetEconomy discovered.

And, then emergent in the middling,

In the breath of life re-revivaled:

Reconfigured, rebuilt, enlivened.

“Wishes realized amid heaven-strewn meteors.”

New-loving, loving new like the first time.

Becoming sir, like Elton, like Churchill,

Mantle handed to the less salt-peppered:

Wisdom-sharing, joints creaking, persistent.

With overactive “Nostalgia casing overtime.”

Doors held opened with deference.

Becoming sir, like my Grampa and Pépère,

Carrying on family’s names on other loins:

Legacy-building, crest nesting, inscribing.

“Beyond blood heritage: History alive”

Knighted, sword on my shoulder: yes, “Sir.”