I don’t win prizes because I don’t want to humiliate the losers.
My mother said that’s very kind of me.
James said he does not think it’s a good strategy.
Winning doesn’t seem to matter, so what?
Sometimes I did when I was a kid.
But not at races, I came last.
At tennis I was quite fast.
No Lederer, no, not quite.
But passably good.
I don’t take things seriously, some say I should.
Or did in the past.
I remember coming in last.
My friend said that was also his fate.
When I went to school I turned up late.
This is by no means my whole story.
I have not covered myself with glory.
Some things worked out well, some did not.
That’s life, its all you’ve got.
Maybe somewhere there is a leprechaun and a pot of gold.
Under a rainbow I’ve been told.
If so I’ll let you know.
Dream on, baby.
So it goes.
This poem is half poetry, half prose.
The river flows.
Life has highs and lows.
The end, I suppose.
You want the future, wait.
I arrive late.
Mostly in rhyme.
16th March, 2019