analogy ghosts, 12th March 2017

Sundays are often for many seen as a bit of a throw-away day… that piece of confetti still stuck to your shoes… leftovers…. that party hanger-on the morning after who accepts a free breakfast regarding it as an automatic invitation to also stay for lunch, whose name you don’t know, not a clue of who they are nor with whom they came….. meanwhile you’re getting older….. and as you get older even though you get slower time gets faster, more than it was when much younger and each day felt week filled with more than you ever remember would be possible to fit into a single day…. now there’s never enough hours in the day, nor even the hour…. when 21 was just an aspiration…… and 30, over the hill……. 40 merely unthinkable and 50 was walking with dinosaurs….. 60, a gap in the space-time continuum…. as for 70, that’s how old ghosts are isn’t it?……… beyond 70?…… we stop counting by then……….. we slow down and yet time speeds up, it’s so so anti-sympatico, each day feeling no longer than an hour sometimes and always surprised when Christmas comes around with a “haven’t we just had one?”……. if the days of the weeks were decades then Sunday would be the seventieth…. and beyond… a full stop… leftovers… that piece of confetti still stuck to your shoes….. although Sundays aren’t the same for everyone so perhaps the analogy’s wayward and I’ve just wasted all these words for nothing….. I’ll get my coat…….

© robert greig


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