Half time...

Sometimes, often when I am least expecting it, the knowledge that I am at least more than halfway through my existence comes a knocking at my door. I don’t like the sound of that rat-a-tat-tat but, being a realist, I think it highly unlikely that I will live into my hundred and teens.

I suppose that I should take heed, but somehow instead of encouraging me to do better, it makes me even more carefree and excessive. It even makes me want to howl at the moon, just to see if anyone howls back.

Time passes so quickly, and I’m finding that as I get older the years and months pass ever faster as though they are speeding up to be done and reach the finishing line as quickly as possible. I’d like to slow it all down so that, if I can’t live longer, I can at least live in slow motion. But life isn’t a film, and it’s not like the moon waxing and waning and then waxing all over again.

The best I can do is live life to my fullest until the wane really kicks in, which may not be to everyone’s approval and isn’t without risk, but I am increasingly okay with it. Well, as okay as I can be at the moment.

Half time

I could have caught the moon,

Still could, well maybe half.

Half life on the line,

Half full on the vine,

Half empty with bull,

Half fat and half full.

What’s in that glass?

Halfway through it all,

Stumbling in half light.

Half mooned,

Half marooned,

I’ve gone beyond half time.

Half through this marathon rhyme,

Putting up half a fight,

I see through half an eye

That it’s half and half all right.

Half of what I used to be?

I smile with half my witless wit.

Reaching for the half moon,

And that’s just the half of it.