I was pounding out another chapter for my book 2 Celtic mystery wip when this popped into my head. Didn’t get the chapter finished but at least I have another entry for my poetry book wip. And before you ask: No, this is not autobiographical.
Three Of Me
There was a Beginning Me,
With the aroma of baby freshness
And mother’s soothing lullabies;
An opening refrain to appease young cries.
Then came the Middle Me,
Experienced in worldly awareness.
Sixties songs covered bleak war laments;
A chorus against fresh lives so brutally spent.
Here sits the Ending Me,
Weary with life’s abject unfairness.
Reminisced tune a humming, teary-eyed;
Closing exhortations before the final goodbye.