Every year on holiday he says
He’ll write his life, a memoir from the flat
Where once a letter slipped beneath the mat
And sent him off to work not college days
He says he’ll put on record anecdotes
Red cash bag in the office flying high
On picket lines and letterheads and tie
Guitars and drumkits, reels and fishing floats
He’ll write of those who fell along the way
He’ll write of those he brought into his world
He’ll write of victories won and lessons learned
And then he’ll take a well-earned holiday
Another year not written down nor read
As every year he lives his life instead

Download Page Content (.pdf)