The Auction

By | 31 October 2012

Sometimes it seems we were brought here only to mourn
–That all our happiness, our future plans,
Are fruits of the salesmen’s lure to ‘get us in’,
To have us bid more eagerly in an auction
Which (despite the glowing ads, the bonhomie
Of the salespersons and the boisterous auctioneer)
We will, in due course, find ourselves lamenting:
‘This fabulous dwelling! Those rooms, the views!’
Appear as mocking echoes to us as we finally drive away,
Outbid by younger buyers …
It’s then we feel
Regret for ever daring, once, to suppose
We could out-bid futurity and stay
Forever in this mansion made of clay.

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