I’m old and brittle..
Like cuttlefish poked between the bars
of a budgies cage.
Frayed like yesterday’s pyjamas
Worn out like an old gym plimsoll
Skin dried up like the Dead Sea scrolls
My days are numbered
And the rest of my life is like an HP*
agreement that just got paid off.
They say I have only weeks more to live.
If I’m lucky!
The meaning of luck just failed to earn.
it’s keep.
Let me down like a fortune cookie.
Made me Kind of Blue’.
Counted me out.
And “weeks” just became the most precious
commodity on the planet
Now it’s long faces at the bedside and kind
words from loved ones and pals
But I’m looking through a grey mist descending
If I close my eyes will I be slamming the door
on the rest of my life?
Does it matter anymore where the light goes?
For me now it does.
* Higher Purchase
.
Malcolm Paul
Picture Nick Victor
.