Wouldn’t it be
good if we could
go back in time
at will, to any
part of our lives,
in turn, and fiddle,
adjust, undo,
redo, make
better, make
amends, set
right, streamline,
straighten course,
enjoy, savour,
say goodbye,
say hullo,
say thank you,
all with the
benefit of
hindsight.
Or would it?
The young
should be taught,
what the old
know by instinct,
that every day
above ground is
a good day
Ship worms
do to the
hull of the
old wooden boat
what ageing
does to the
body of the
old human being.
There comes
a day for
everyone
when they
eat their
final meal
Cancer and
bushfires have
this in common –
the earlier you
can catch them
the better the
chance of a cure.
I awake,
each morning,
to a shudder,
of anxieties.
Being forgotten,
while you are still in
land of the living,
prepares you for
being forgotten,
after you are long gone.
In early life
no need to wear
a watch because
your day is set
out for you. In
adult life you
check your watch a
hundred times a
day, every
minute could be
important. In
old age you lose
your watch. Minutes
no longer of
interest. Just
getting through nights.
Old age is
like walking through
a Grimm forest
in a dark night;
branches whip
the face; unseen
carnivores roar;
pits give way
underfoot; trees
fall with a crack;
and somewhere
ahead on the path,
waiting in the gloom,
is the slough of despond
I took the road
less followed,
and found
land mines,
trolls, bandits,
potholes, mud
patches, fallen
trees, and then
my car broke
down. Next time
my way is the
highway.
