Fall From Grace Poem by Angela Wybrow

He was once a respected man,
Until he discovered the old tin can.
At council meetings, he had some sway,
But that was then - back in the day.

He used to be so smartly dressed -
Campaigned with a rosette pinned to his chest.
For the people, he once was the voice;
He had lots of money and drove a Rolls Royce.

He'd sail the world on a luxury cruise,
But his lifestyle changed: all due to booze.
Remembering back how he used to be,
That it's the same man, it's so hard to see.

In scruffy shoes and a shabby old coat,
He's no longer considered a man of note.
With a weathered face and hair that's greying,
Folk no longer care for what he is saying.

He wanders round town, with drink as his friend,
Wishing each day would come to an end.
His days are empty and they feel so long -
He wonders now where it all went wrong.

He frequents a pub - he sits there drinking:
Of better days, no doubt he is thinking.
Seeing him now is quite a big shock -
Does he wish he could turn back the clock?

Now he has little purpose in life;
His children have left and so has his wife.
He lives alone in a cold council flat;
His only company is his black and white cat.

His one time voters now pass him by,
Without so much as meeting his eye.
In local press, he was a familiar face,
But that was before his fall from grace.