Lost in translation

Of wispy days of hallowed ground
where nought remains of saintly crowns;
yet pomp and circumstance retain
the fleeting melody of a once fair game.

Nothing changes much yet all is lost
to a bygone age and a master crutch,
where master led and servant knew
his life on earth at the back of the queue.

These things are lost in translation of years
as I sit in the turf of long lost tears,
and many are gone yet others remain
to stand up tall till they too be slain.

A X