WALLIE'S WENTLETRAP

She fell on her face and she looked none too happy…

And recently she seems to feel pretty crappy…

Most mornings, I hear her, when rising from bed,

And where once she’d be singing, she’s groaning instead.

*

Now me, I can sympathise, getting no younger,

I still want my walks but without the same hunger,

I still need my ball and my toys and to play…

But these days, I’m happy to sleep half the day.

*

We’re ageing together, my two-legs and me,

Where I can still run, she’s slowed up mightily,

I’ll still make a run for a half-open gate,

The only thing she’s heading fast for is ‘late’.

*

But while we’re both here, we’ll believe in forever,

In loving and living and laughing together,

For one thing that never grows old is the heart

And once filled with love no two hearts ever part.

This may be the final post that I get chance to write for the Silent Eye… that decision has been taken out of my hands. I spent much of last week in hospital, having, as many of you know, been diagnosed with incurable small cell lung cancer last September. It has been an interesting and informative journey on so many levels as familiar things have been stripped away and a gift of love left in its place… rather like the tooth fairy leaving something of real value in place of a discarded incisor.

First to go was the illusion of near-immortality that gets us through life, one way or another. We know there is a certain inevitability about life leading to death, but we tend not to apply it to ourselves until we are forced to pay attention. Dealing with the situation that made me sit up and listen meant…

There are lots of doors. Writing is a door. Art is a door. One of the facets of creative work that has always fascinated me most is the ability to inspire creation. When you see really compelling artwork, you don’t just see a 2D image–you see a story–and that is the beginning of your own journey.