Monday, 16 June 2014

Last Knocking's

The door to the entrance whispered ‘click’
No further way in could be found
Those left outside in the stinging wind
Barely uttering a sound

Days like this more common every day
With populations fast increasing
As number games like dying flames
Leave late arrival hopes decreasing

To gain a place among the in crowd
Within the limited partial few
Who have no heart for those irregular?
Even less for those who queue

In the last gasps of spontaneous
Where too many have too much
Attendance now a five-year plan
Even superstars go Dutch

As the party bells stop ringing out
All strains of overtures subside
With regretful anti-climax
Your space now reigns with those denied

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