AFTERWARDS

It's afterwards
And a calm of sorts is setting in.
And now we know the king
Will never sing again,
But then:

Born in squalid poverty
Down in Tupelo
On the Mississippi.
Then to Memphis
At thirteen,
Living out
His wildest dreams.
A millionaire
The king of rock,
Yet still the heartaches
Just wouldn't stop.

The stately halls
Are filled with shame,
Gone the glory
But not the fame.
At forty-two a famous man
Who no one seemed
To understand.
A mellow tune
Or raucous one,
They play his hits
Even though he's gone.

Heartaches built up
Caused his death,
Weariness stole
His final breath.
Surround by
The parasites,
Inadvertently
They took his life.
Gone his dreams
With his ex-wife,
She took his hope with;
His beloved child.

THE END
© Copyright 2021, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia