The Last Shot

More than the projected images

They had immortal appeal

But nothing lasts

When the light snuffs out

Only deep darkness remains

One flew over the Cuckoo’s nest

Forty years before, and the other now

Passing away is painful

Whether of an ordinary, or a celebrity

No fanfare, or too much of it

Both are intimidating

Soon another season comes

Again there is light and warmth

Flowers bloom again

Few silent spectators miss

Taking the last shot

In normal light

With a normal lens

With aperture on priority-mode

Too much flash, they have known, spoils the shot