“Until the day I die, I’ll never forget
those glassy, unblinking eyes.” they haunt me still,
Years were cut abruptly, I regret,
His callous satisfaction, feigned conceal.
To some he was a buddy, someone real
But I, a distaff staffer, stood outside,
I chuckled not at vulgar chats, but steeled
myself, though reddened cheeks I could not hide.
He, the victor, donned this pelt with pride
abroad his shoulder, flung his neck around,
He, the satyr, stomped the losing side,
But in the end, my spirit would rebound.
With dignity and hope I bid adieu
to quarter century: “Begin anew.”