Old Merlin

                                            Old Merlin
                                      by;fernand jiro marantal   

“When I was just a tiny lad

My brain was quick and full of wit

At least – I think that’s how it was;

I seem to have forgotten it –

How did I spend my early years?

In perfect truth – I couldn’t say

But then again, I can’t recall

What I was doing yesterday.

My notes are quite a mess, it’s true

And when I try to cast a spell

Or summon up a cosmic sprite

It doesn’t seem to go too well.

I had a certain potted plant

That stubbornly refused to bloom

I said the magic words, and then

I waved my hand beside it – BOOM!

And how I have a green and red

And purple polka-dotted cat

(And just exactly what, I ask

Am I supposed to do with that?)

The kings and dukes, they used to come

And ask me to enchant their blades

Or work some magic to ensure

Successes in their future raids.

That’s over now. King Arthur won’t

Be back again, and that’s for sure

Pink stripes are fine on Guinevere

But not, perhaps, Excalibur!

I must be doing something wrong;

That much, at least, is very clear

But I...what was I saying there?

I’ve really quite forgot, I fear...”

But no one laughs. The silence falls

Like quiet death on empty stone

Where Merlin sits, one hundred three

Within his dusty mind, alone.