#365DaysOfWriting – Day 149
The Last Waltz
A final proclamation.
An all too sudden closure. No longer are you a cynosure.
Of one.
Back to the grind of life.
Many eyes around. But you are seen by none.
Wade through the unfriendly rain.
See the wide streets, narrowed by potholes.
Almost to the width of a cane.
Rap your knuckles. One last time.
Then tape it. Put the boxing gloves on. Go toe-to-toe with time.
‘Tis a great healer! They said about time.
A great leveller, they did not.
Paper over the cracks. In your bones.
Lest your spirit be damaged.
You need to be in one piece. You need to be one with yourself.