To be freckled with adulation

That is a difficult thing

To be fitted for crowns

That vanish Monday

The 11 o’clock hour

Announces the ring

Of a time lapse existence

Where nothing will change

Years will bring promise

Of hope minimally fulfilled

Where songs can’t be great

And laughter is insistently sealed

Where maybe a glint

Will foreshadow glee

Yet will most likely swallow

Pleasure received

Carefully controlled mute

Blocks out the applause

Or simply will not see

What all the fuss is about

It was never there you know

Never there, the waterfall

Just a trickle permitted

Just inevitable stall

Just inevitable stall

Won’t allow pedigree

Perhaps for the haunts

Perhaps it skips me

It could occur with all men

Why take it personally

But you suffer most of all

Consequently

To be freckled with adulation

That is a difficult thing

To be fitted with crowns

That vanish Monday