THE NEXT

                   Forty-four feels his toes numb, his calves ache

Already the lameness is creeping in

The anticipation of exit, the pain of hypocrisy

The looming dark cloud of Legacy

It is in the nature of the possible

Its’ Art, that in the second term

All a Good Man can think of

Is how he will be remembered

Healthcare (always a Democratic good)

A tinkering with weaponry but no real change

An economy of shifting sands kicked in his face

And of course, continuance of The War On Terror

He was judged before he was elected

He is judged every day he holds office

He will be judged for the remainder of his life

This truth is as self-evident as is the freedom to judge

Maybe when the jigsaw of history is recut

The world may have become a better place

There will show some incremental increase

In peace, and in love, and in democracy

This is the hope where his word began

Before paralysis took hold of his ideals and

Both enemy and friend refocused their attention

Planning, campaigning, proclaiming their devotion to

“The next president of …”

 (C) Trevor Maynard 2015