I know he’s not getting any younger - and unlike me
sees more ambivalence in The Walk, unless it’s his,
and only his idea; so an eight-fifteen AM suggestion
we stroll up The Hill has a negative-effect. We don’t
disagree of course, he just finds activity that’s much
more contemporary, like investigating strange dogs’
pee whom he didn’t see being on his patch - which,
need I say, is a pretence because he’s long past it
He agrees, and finds a sunny morning spot to lie &
luxuriate in, without imminent pressure of a grande
promenade he let slip on by; there’s an inward grin
evident, a no worries I’ll be into it soon, I just don’t
need a walkabout now - at least really not until my
digestive system tells me the bell’s about to peal
© 9 August 2016, I. D. Carswell
No comments:
Post a Comment