Time To Go

In my old age I thought I’d have such yarns to tell, of derring-do when I was hale and hearty. Looking back, I wonder now just what befell me in those years and did I miss the party? Distant echoes further fade as all the days slip by. An aproned lady combs my hair and tells me I should try once more to do the jigsaw, but I really don’t know why. They tell me I have new friends now, sitting in a circle, wiggling toes, or neatly slipper-clad, arranged in rows, we sing “We”ll meet again” at bedtime with our cocoa, smoothing out the pain. But well we know, when it’s time to go, it’s our “au revoir” refrain.