He flipped through them, just page by page <br />the archives of his life, god-given and precise. <br />Skin peeling off arthritic fingers at this stage <br />ingested wisdom and fatigue from battles, in his eyes. <br />He still remembered that it started with page three <br />he'd skipped the boring, customary introduction; <br />that's where the midwife earned her reassurance fee <br />she had not counted on the need for urgent suction. <br /> <br />He was so tired now, the letters swam like fishes, <br />and flashed a smile at last on reaching the last page, <br />there was no index or appendix and no list of wishes <br />just one small footnote stating 'you have reached the age'. <br />He thought how strange that he experienced relief, <br />here at the bus stop to a great uncertainty. <br />Oh yes, of course this journey had been very brief, <br />but it was madness and great logic to be free.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-last-page-3/
