Life time

Approaching 74

and every ache,

every niggle, every

unexplained twitch

in the night,

presages doom and

a twinkle in an

undertaker’s eye.

Half way through 73

and sour memories

bubble up like methane

in Lake Baikal, erupt

randomly like black

mud in Rotorua, old

regrets seem once

again possible triumphs,

old grievances can

once again cut the psyche

like a knife.

Getting close to

my seventy third Xmas

and counting again

all the gifts I have

been given over

this amazingly long

time. Love, and

friendship, and

life itself.

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