The sun is setting fast
On this matador of Sundays
Time, a raging bull but
He took time to its limit
Time rebounds faster than flesh
In the dark room he reviews the films
His sinew, his stride, surely as smooth as it was a decade ago
No that could not have been a hitch, a falter
Everyone around him agrees
The contract agrees too
Final hours he wrestles
With legacy and limb
Keep on going keep on playing
Hunter’s moon is not here still
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