John Kerry, Lost?
John Kerry, lost? His noble brow,
Perchance revert to wrinkles now?
The valiant warrior strode the world,
Retreating now, his banner furled.
To face the wrath, withheld til now,
Of bitter phrase from stifled frau.
To pace the hall with echo dread,
While might-have-beens sift through his head.
To see his minions, tears bedecked,
And watch his ship of state be wrecked.
To tally promises he has made,
And worry how they might be paid.
To look into the mirrored eye,
And sadly to inquire why?
What was the key that slipped away,
Or what the coin of devil pay?
“I’ve sold my soul to buy this prize,
That withers now before my eyes,
That slips now from my straining grasp,
Which once I held in firmest clasp.”
His turning mind brings forth a name,
The source from which the troubles came.
“In vanquished mourning I confess,
I am John Kerry, and I approve this mess.”
NicknamedBob . . . . . . November 3, 2004