Last Man Standing
End of a Family Name.
In the cycle of centuries we are but a flicker,
Stirred into life by a short burst of breath.
No fleeting smile, or rousing cheer remembers
The old man who died along with his name.
Centuries in its calling, it bore the pain
Of births, of deaths, and the joy of an infant's cry.
Scribbled ink on bible pages thick with aged dust,
Writ by men whose bones lay bare.
Cloth capped with cripple sticks, which creak, crack,
As the clip clop men shuffled in hob nailed boots,
Tapped with leather, thick laced against
The water which leaks onto socks of worn out wool.
Where is that name that time forgot?
Lost by marriage, or the barren womb -
Gone, with my grandfather's mortal breath.
Roger Lewis
6st November 2014.
