Wisdom Wears Neon Pyjamas

You slipped out quietly this year. None of your usual bluff and bluster. And certainly no encores.

Without as much as a by-your-leave, you were gone, the door shut firmly and the sound of a taxi in the distance. Did you feel ignored? Abandoned? Snubbed by the throngs worshipping other deities? Chasing elephant heads, fasting by day and feasting by night, they nudged you off centre-stage and chose other distractions instead.

And now the ingrates miss you, how you soak their beloved city, how she sparkles in borrowed droplets, how she lounges in silver-laced foam.

But you’re gone and we look skyward, blinded by a gathering sun, and sadly store our umbrellas away, until you glower darkly at us again.