From the earliest memories of friends and kin,
Life was good for Batholomew Dylan Banks.
Early on folks were enamored with him.
All were tolerant of his childish pranks.
People enjoyed his charismatic charm,
His lack of manners judged auspiciously coy.
His obstinate behavior, caused little harm,
As he was lauded with many an "at-ta boy".
Friends honoured him with compliments and praise,
Lavish offerings of presents and toys,
Gifts were aplenty in Bart's adolescent days.
His possessions were his pride and joy.
As he became a young man, people began,
To reprove his social arrogance,
His life took a turn, he could not understand,
Why so many soon avoided his presence.
He was truly inspired by all he aspired,
Things came easier to Bart than you and me.
His one fatal flaw, a self-centered desire,
A lack of grace and humility.
His haughty disdain forged an arrogant sin.
You see, Bart never once did give thanks,
For all that ever really mattered to him,
Was Bartholomew Dylan Banks.
Some say it was sad, the way he turned out.
Some remember him uncommonly thin.
He never did prosper or ever amount,
To the life he envisioned for him.
He never married, never had kids,
Never found his place in the ranks.
And when he died, no one remembered him,
Bartholomew Dylan Banks.
Copyright © June 2009
Kevin Mooney
