WRITTEN IN INK
Posted: Thu Jun 06, 2019 1:53 pm
WRITTEN IN INK .. Maureen Clifford ©
Nobody really knew him – the inner man,
the hidden man
but he saw
when he was turning on the light
the shadow puppet he had become.
The ’yes’ man.
The ‘eager to please’ man.
The ‘peace at any price’ man.
Is that who he was?
As much substance as a plate full of leaves.
How he longed for something unpredictable to shake this complacency.
This was the time when he should be having the time of his life.
He’d no money worries.
The kids were grown.
He had job security
or as much as anybody did these days.
He was a lucky man.
But something was missing.
Was this a mid life crisis?
Male menopause?
Things had to change
there had to be more to life than the endless repetition
of his days.
He thought he might lash out,
get a tattoo –
all the young ones had them.
He considered getting ‘Memories’ tattooed
on his chest above his heart,
but then realized
there were no worthwhile ones to record.
That would change.
Nobody really knew him – the inner man,
the hidden man
but he saw
when he was turning on the light
the shadow puppet he had become.
The ’yes’ man.
The ‘eager to please’ man.
The ‘peace at any price’ man.
Is that who he was?
As much substance as a plate full of leaves.
How he longed for something unpredictable to shake this complacency.
This was the time when he should be having the time of his life.
He’d no money worries.
The kids were grown.
He had job security
or as much as anybody did these days.
He was a lucky man.
But something was missing.
Was this a mid life crisis?
Male menopause?
Things had to change
there had to be more to life than the endless repetition
of his days.
He thought he might lash out,
get a tattoo –
all the young ones had them.
He considered getting ‘Memories’ tattooed
on his chest above his heart,
but then realized
there were no worthwhile ones to record.
That would change.
