The Chargé de Camp


Time’s running out.

At a point, you can tell.

But you don’t.    You won’t notice,

    you ignore it.


And that point begins

when close family and friends

up ends    and begins    to diminish.


‘Diminishing Returns,’

    the fancier term,

I’ll just cut to the chase and say “exit.”


And you’re left alone 

…unless….you’re one of the ‘others,’

which means this poem’s not of you.


And then, again,

either way, the poem’s true,

cause you’re the one left here

    to read it.


And all those ‘begotten’

are slowly ‘forgotten;’

    but there’s you,

    and they ‘live’ there within you.


You’re the Chargé de camp!

    In charge of the mission.

All alone, you do what you do:


    Re-write the story.

    Make yourself sorry. 

    Re-state what each    say and do.


The only one left, so who is to guess,

what’s right?    who’s left?     what’s true?


No one else cares.

No one else shares 

the past, but the rest

    not with you.


You’re the Chargé de camp!

    No one will care what you do.


And the gallant shall rise,

the noble will fall.

    No change!

    There remains

    the big view.


But all that between!

    the surly and mean,

    the nitpicky innuendo –


That’s the big rock!

that goes through the shop.

And that’s what ‘they’ all want to know.

That’s what ‘Rocks’ the whole show.


The Chargé de camp!

You can do what you want –

Make the thing up – make it all up as you go.

There’s no one but you, who will know.





©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

2 July 2013

revised 2 July 2013


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