I guess that’s it–that’s
the lot that comes to us;
that’s the crazy haze of living
and breathing through
smiles and tears and fears
that hang on like barnacles
on a hull left to rot and
rust in its shallow water grave.
That’s the lot and we the brave
want more like in Oliver’s Twist;
we may want more but this
plate is all there is and when
it’s cleaned the circle ends.
That’s the lot–the circle ends!
The lot–for this is it
and memory is all that’s left.
This is it.
16/11/2019