Squashed In Between

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At the end of the page

I put my hand up and told,

“I’ve finished the page, Miss!

What do I do now?”

“Stop shouting out!” she shouted.

“And don’t ask silly questions!”

So, I sat there for a while,

not knowing what next to do.

“Keep writing!” shouted Miss.

“No-one’s told you to stop.”

I stopped stopping and started

again, squeezing in my new

story in between the lines of

the old, all tiny and wavy,

and uncertain.

“What’s this?” shouted Miss.

“Why all the squashed-up writing?”

I was angry at that, but I got

what Miss was saying. Could

see her point, so I unsquashed

the squashed, taking great care

to rip all of my lines up, one by

careful one, getting things all

ready for the keeping of the

writing – for the feeding of

my story back into the start

and into the end of my own

story. Back into the hollow of

my head – a head stuffed full

of the end, the middle, and

the startings and the swirlings and the squeezings

of all that’s squashed in between.

 

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, March 2919

 

Image courtesy of MoneyForCoffee on Pixabay.com

 

 

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