It is almost December:

I flipped to the back of my planner
In search of my resolution list

Only to find in its place
A picture of a girl

I smiled and sighed,
‘Resolution 2021, met.’

It is only December.

A Toast to You:

You were a big grey cat
With a powerful tail (/tale);

You had a look of innocence
(I called it a blur look)
(And rightly so!)
You were a Scottish Fold;

I didn’t think the last I saw you
Would be the last I saw you;
(What was I thinking anyway)

I’ll always remember you (and/in)
The way your owner used to call you

(I guess this is goodbye.)

Worlds and wars are won on such things:
Yes, worlds and wars are lost on such things.

“Friends, Romans, countrymen…”
I am no Mark Antony:
How can I convince the world

If I cannot convince you?
(Need I convince the world before I convince you?)

N.B. If that is what it will take, I will do just that.

I’m sorry I ever made you feel this way –
I made the decision to let you go;

But now I can only wish
You made the decision to let go earlier;

Does the story really end here?
(The real question is, should it?)

Theories are sometimes nothing more than
complex excuses we give to things we do not understand.

Put it another way, sometimes theories are
invented to explain away things we do not want to understand.

Lamentable. I don’t think I’ve ever liked
The word very much but it is as it is:

Lamentable.

I was not crazy about the idea of
Players leaving clubs because
They do not get enough play time or
When they are not passed the ball enough.

I am positively sure I love the idea now.

A player should be where he is valued
Where he gets playtime and gets passed the ball.

The best player, when not played or passed the ball
Is nothing but a shadow of himself (a waste really).

Shadow. I don’t think I’ve ever liked
The word very much and I still do not now:

Shadow.

(I trust that it hurts the player most to have to leave the club.)

(Deciding between a tennis analogy and a football analogy.)

You ask me to hit a ball to your backhand
I ask you to hit a ball to my forehand;

You ask me to play a ball to your defenders
I ask you to play a ball to my strikers;

What happens when a point is won?
What happens when a goal is scored?

What happens when the match is won?
(Who do you think won it?)

Ping pong diplomacy is one thing
Tennis and football are quite another.

The ghosts that haunt yesterday
(may be)
The angels that bless tomorrow
(thanks be to today)

.

Do you ever just sit there and think of how the narrative
Slowly unravels into a broken shattered record?

Does the needle circle the record
Or did the phonograph make a mistake?

When does a storyteller stop telling the story?
Who gets to decide when the story ends?

Should the storyteller continue penning his tale until the very end?
Should the storyteller end the tale on a cliffhanger?

Or does the tale end only when the storyteller ends?
(He hangs, by a thread of broken lies and shattered dreams.)