Post 265: Snowy Storms are forecast.
The diary’s not complete.
The pages turn
quite slowly
in the diary of my life,
The emptiness is all too clear
but for struggles and the strife,
Where is the love the whole of love
that glues us all together,
It’s as fickle as the atmosphere
changing like the weather,
Slowly are
all the days
that ease across those pages,
Unlike the dramas on tv
my time is not on stages,
I’ve always hid behind the screens
to avoid being in the spotlight,
It’s there I found my leading girl
and forever held her tight,
More and more
the pure white pages
fill with busy lines,
With every day a day to live
before the end of time,
When no more ink can tell the tale
of how I’d spent my days,
While all along
those last year books
had shown my slow decay
Life is mine
I choose to fill
the rest of life with fun,
It’s better to
get out the bed
than lazing on my bum,
I’ll need the strength
to eat again
from all the feast and bounty,
And write again in bold and sweet
my future whole life’s diary,
———
Waking with the shoulder pain is now a normal thing, I guess the time will come when the doctor will give me some hope of recovery. I can’t wait.
I sent the old passport off today which was quite exciting, which shows how dull life is, but it’s a key to a door of travel. That sounds good.
A text from a friend gave me support for the forthcoming oncology meeting about the HT I don’t particularly want. I appreciate the time and trouble taken and I’m boosted to think I’m right in not wanting it anymore.
On balance it’s neither good nor bad but it’s surely my choice.
I faded fast in the afternoon and became cold and sleepy watching tv, so my Darling sent me to bed.
Is it the storm brewing down the channel that’s upsetting my equilibrium or am I just out of puff? The morning will tell if the storm came our way, but until then…
Good night
