Thirty-five.
Kọ́lá Túbọ̀sún
62

Time flies; like a trail-less waft of delightful aroma, whilst we are still wondering what it is, poof, no more. Memories are all we are left with, like puzzle-lined chewing gum wrappers for later amusement. Tired jaws too, and later a new riddle to be shared with someone.

The fleet-footed enigma is unstoppable. I have stopped minding my gray hair. Too many thoughts coming at one as life wears on.

I am just going to enjoy the indefeasible ride to…. wherever.

Happy growing old, Kola.

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