All Three of Me

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Time is limited. 

There isn’t much left of it, he said.

Why then, at forty-nine has my life as myself only just started?

And will the first year of my new beginning last until the end of time?

Or, in the stretching, will it thin out – in the middle – with neither of the mes,

at either of

the ends, letting                                                                           go

until time …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..,

the self-limiting time that is me ————————->     <——————————- snaps?

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, June 2019

 

Written in response to Hamed M Dehongi’s post about getting older.

 

Image by Lothar Dieterich from Pixabay

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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