Gainsborough by Bob Atkinson

Gainsborough

(c)2012 Bob Atkinson

born in the year '27

in Taurus, a good sign

late in the evening's darkness
 a Wednesday's crisp spring night

he gave what few had given

in those days of circumstance

something to the world at large

beyond both song and dance

captured memories of the past

those golden scenes of his depiction

those expressive faces
and flowing gowns

all now gone, or ripped to pieces

those beauties with fine faces

those smiles and sulking looks

those poses without expression

those frowns of devil's hooks

today we have what isn't ours
because he was a man
who could leave for all to see
what life looked like back then

died in '88
an event for us to lament
his passing tore from our hearts
one of history's best connections

have this feeling we cannot shake
we know it very well, indeed
the internal wanting, craving
to view those early seeds

seeds sewn that created us

those seeds of circumstance

so different from our own we see

what has become such emptyness

  those with such different mores
those times of struggle to stay alive
those times of life much harder
those times of fierce internal pride

those things we grew apart from
those character traits adorned
of those now dead and buried

still able to teach us better norms