The Favorite’s Fall By Jim Gandolf

The Favorite’s Fall

A Poem 

By Jim Gandolf

©️10212025

The air was sweet, the light was clear,

When I said "yes" to quell a fear.

I was the one who always bent,

The willing tool, the time well spent.

A comfort held, a safety net,

The thing they reached for, no regret.

My value bloomed in what I gave,

A tireless worker, willing slave.

And so, I wore the cherished crown,

The "favorite" in their little town.

But that bright crown felt cold and tight,

It cost my peace, it stole my light.

I watched my own reserves grow thin,

As every plea was let right in.

Until the day I felt the break,

The silent vow that I would make:

To hold my ground, to be complete,

To trade the bittersweet for sweet.

The very moment that I drew

A line of "no," a clear-cut view,

The sweet air soured, the light grew dim,

The mirror cracked upon the rim.

The smile that always held its place

Was gone, replaced by cold grimace.

The calls grew few, the texts went cold,

A story that began to fold.

For when the giving hand is closed,

The willing heart that’s now composed,

Is seen as hindrance, not as friend,

A useful journey at an end.

The "favorite" title, once so grand,

Was passed to someone close at hand.

And though the sting of that neglect

Can make a fractured soul reflect,

There’s strength in this new, quiet space,

A truer light upon my face.

I lost the praise, but gained the whole,

The sovereign right to own my soul.

I am not their favorite, that is true,

But finally, I am mine to use.

Thank you for reading 

Jim Gandolf