One moment

The other day,

in a waiting room

of a medical scanning

centre, I saw two

elderly ladies. One

went in for her scan

while the other waited

anxiously. When she came

out they held hands,

talking quietly and

seriously about what

had been done,

been said, staring into

each other’s eyes.

Then they left

and through the

window I could see

a fervent embrace,

before they moved on,

arms around each

other, providing comfort,

very much in love.

Hand on head instead?

What is it with

Americans putting

their hand on their

heart at solemn

occasions like the

funeral of an

ex-president?

They do know,

I suppose, that the

heart is just a lump

of muscle that

circulates blood?

I mean, we have known

for five hundred years

that the heart has

nothing to do with

emotions, so why

put your hand over it?

Valediction

I have never

had, in a long life

of creating ideas,

and things, a serious

review of any of it. No

serious consideration

of what was attempted,

what were the problems,

what was achieved.

But then you don’t get that

for your life itself

I suppose,