Down to the wire

May 9, 2015 at 10:35 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments
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Today I woke to find my silver hair had turned to wire.

Gone the soft flax of youth.

The dank lanks of adolescence.

The mousey locks of adulthood.

This is different.

Distinguished banker?

Not quite.

Grizzled marine?


Snow-topped professor?

Alas, no.

All I have is grey wire.

Spools of the stuff.

They don’t even use it.

Something about colour-blind electricians, I think.

So why do I have a headful?

Is one strand from the pacemaker my dad refused?

Does another belong to the bodgy mike of the priest who buried him?

Has the universe deduced, from 18 months of gritted teeth, that I sorely need my jaw sewn shut?

Or has Fate taken one long fibre

and tempered it into Samurai steel?

I think so.


To craft the sharpest needle,

to draw all pain from my dear, dying doggie and

to plunge it in my




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  1. As they say Paul, just because there’s snow in the roof, doesn’t time an there isn’t a fire in the furnace. 🙂

    • It’s always a real pleasure to hear from you, Catherine. Having run out of wood, I’ve lately been burning peat. And, despite the odd preserved body, I totally think you’re on the money. Thank you very much for venturing in. Kind regards, P.

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