Hard Act to Follow
His mind was his own worst enemy and his heart was in collusion. The rest was left to fend for itself. Mayhem ruled in the digestive tract. Road blocks were set up in the arteries. Phlegm clogged the trachea. There was nothing left but raw courage, tenacious and gnarled. The outside world sensed he was in serious disarray and moved in for the kill, sporting its cowardice like a chestful of medals.
Ex-wives and old flames paraded in front of his house in petticoats. Wanna-be poets stood on his lawn bleating their shabby poesy. Savage youth rolled up its sleeve and made a petulant muscle. Sycophants came out of the woodwork and showed their true colors. The sun plunged as far south as it could go and took the bright light from the sky. The temperature sank below zero and stayed there.
Winter again in the far north. There was nothing for it but to dig in and wait for spring, and if he made it thru, it would be a tough act to follow.