SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS this week asks us to look both back and forward.
BOOKENDS.
The book-years were so full of 'stuff',
Never, never time enough,
Children, work, and some duress,
Always wanting to progress.
Those years seem rather dog-eared now,
Condensed versions anyhow.
Some are tattered, best unread,
Some live on inside my head.
Well-thumbed pages, part-torn covers,
Remembered friends, forgotten lovers....
All a sort of jumble, really
That I can't remember clearly.
*
But, oh the BOOKENDS! They're what counts!
Life, in glorious amounts.
On the left there is the child,
Laughing free and running wild.
A girl with all the world before her;
Expecting people to adore her.
Sure and certain life would be
A great and glorious fantasy.
And, on the right, the end result,
Which often makes my heart exult.
To near the end a child again
Almost as I was back then!
Free from all those careworn pages
That seemed to mark my 'middle-ages'!
Second-childhood? Here's a child
Still 'laughing free and running wild'!
Freed from rules and obligations,
Surrounded by my dear relations,
Yes, my friends, it seems to me
A 'Bookend' is the thing to be!
