Ode To the Edit Centre

She’s dead, she’s gone, she’s not coming back. She’s run off the rails, gone off the track. She used to have power, was on the attack. Those days are gone, no looking back. She was a business, she made me a living. Didn’t make me rich, but she kept on giving. To me and all those who I employed. But she’s had her run of which I’ve enjoyed. I saw the end coming but refused to bend Change the direction, make some amend. Kept fooling myself, that is I kept on trying. I’d make a living, my business not dying. There are those who still play my game. Are making money, not me, not the same. Perhaps they are much smarter than I. I see their success and ask myself, why? Soon, very soon, I will shut off the phone. Those few that support me will be left alone. For I am forever done with this endeavor, I’m saying goodbye, it’s now or never. I’m on to new challenges that life has to give. I’ll rise from the ashes, continue to live. The name of my business was The Edit Centre. And for 27 years, my life did I lend her. But she’s on oxygen, she’s barely breathing. I can’t look at her face and tell her I’m leaving. If she could hear me, I’d tell her it was fun. Made me complete for twenty and then some.