Royal Memories
I remember,
Racing through these halls,
As an idealistic child.
People would hand me a soda,
Or an ice cream bar,
And laugh as I proclaimed,
That the Royal would last forever.
I remember,
Listening with pride and awe,
As my friends, co-volunteers,
Stood up at our dinner,
And rewarded me for doing what I love.
All I could do,
Was wonder how I could be so lucky,
To have the Royal.
I remember,
Shoveling dirty straw and wood chips,
Into a dumpster,
Smiling and laughing with the others,
Who worked alongside me.
I remember,
Walking around with trash bags,
And rubber gloves,
Picking up rancid pieces of meat,
And having fun doing it.
I remember,
Holding young children on my lap,
As we all listened to a story,
Or shook plastic containers of cream,
To make butter,
Dancing, singing, laughing out loud.
Well,
I’m not laughing now.
The American Royal,
My American dream,
Is dying,
Molding and decaying in a shallow grave,
Because no one has bothered,
To unearth it.
I walk down these halls now,
And they’re empty.
I see these same faces,
And they’re crying.
As I crouch in this garage,
Where I used to help set up the soda cart,
And feel so happy as I helped,
My fellow volunteers,
I am surrounded by the smell of alcohol,
Teaching me how to ferment,
In my own tears.
This is what the Royal has become,
A bad two-dollar bottle of whiskey,
Hiding inside the crystal,
Of my cherished memories.
But when I opened it,
It bit, made me sick.
And I wanted to throw it away,
But it still looked so pretty,
Gilded with my love.
I want to get roaringly drunk,
On this liquid that should never be,
In a place for children,
To try and forget,
This day, this place, these tears,
Because the Royal I knew is dead.
Someone just forgot,
To invite me to the funeral.
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