Get to the first hour of December,

that new born minute

and somewhere in the world

you will stop breathing,

your chest will stop

and people will grieve;

the year has been the perfect assassin

with stealthy fleet foot,

yet there is still more time to play,

celebrity is always in vogue.

 

The thirty one days, counting

down because that is what we do,

we cross off the days in our heads

and with marker pen

on the free

and easy calendars that we received

in the post with our magazine subscription

to have access with the stars;

only then do we mourn them

when they are gone.

 

Assassin, Time, perfect shot

in the memory

as we remember fondly black and white

movie stills and lunch time breaks

in which their stock was risen…

and the photographs on social media

imploring our love, our passion,

our passing fancy as they parade

off screen, the final bow

in a year less honourable

and unforgiving

than most.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016