‘Your turn next,’ she said
\nAnd I went in to see
\nWhat sort of an exit
\nThey had planned for me.<\/p>\n
The professional smile was nothing new,
\nAt eighty two I’d seen a few
\nSo returned it, tit-for-tat
\nAnd looked for a place to put my hat.<\/p>\n
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘the weather’s warm’
\n‘Probably build up to a storm.’
\nWe each maintain a formal smile
\nAs his fingers slip along a file.<\/p>\n
‘Ah, yes,’ indicating mild surprise
\n‘You had your tests,’ as I surmise
\nRemembering to watch the eyes,
\nThey can bamboozle otherwise.<\/p>\n
I hear him speak, the message known
\nHis voice may sooth, his eyes reveal,
\nAnd all the while what’s known has grown
\nTo offset more than I can feel.<\/p>\n
The steps ahead are now spelled out –
\nThe words like bullets piercing me
\nAs a relief with no more doubt
\nThe sentence read, ‘doomed to be free.’<\/p>\n
The return journey is the same
\nI’ll have some tea when I get home
\nAnd think about the changing game
\nAnd face the future all alone.<\/p>\n
2007 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
‘Your turn next,’ she said And I went in to see What sort of an exit They had planned for me. The professional smile was nothing new, At eighty two I’d seen a few So returned it, tit-for-tat And looked … Continue reading