The Trophy - 4/22/2002

Your trophy stood alone,

Shiny, and glorious,

On a high pedestal

For all to admire.

A symbol of your fame,

Your fortune,

Your luck.

Those who wanted it

Stared longingly.

You who had it

Scoffed reproachfully.

Now, after all these years,

Who remembers

What it once stood for?

Certainly not I;

The once golden luster,

Now corroded with green,

Stands alone.

©2002, M.V.H.