Four years like yesterday,
The past our past,
And the sorry and sorrow bits
We want to leave well
And let go comes with a slap.
A reminder that our time
Is not linear but cyclical,
Going and coming to haunt
And tease us out of rest,
To behold what we had beheld.
The London look festival
Is now a Parisian show of speculation.
The same old actors
Playing the same old role,
Reading the same old script.
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Back to kick and dare us,
To humor the rumor they started,
The gumption to mock a nation,
A repast they enjoy with leer and grin.
The health tourist is back for the clean and jerk.
@ Sam Ogabidu
