A Fallen BondEdit

By Christopher J. Bradley

5/8/2003 8:20:06 AM


It was seven o’clock

When I heard of Roger Moore’s collapse.

His paroxysm struck on Broadway

And no doubt in a whirlwind of outburst.

The thought of it all

My hero from age seven

A novel relic from the age of Flemming

That would nourish me with finesse

And not heresy.

It would enlighten

Even the finicky film watchers

To see his name stretched across the heavens.

I pray that he does not go too soon.

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