I consider it
lying there looking
too pleased with itself
brand spanking new
taut cellophane cover
fitting skin-smooth
it puts up a decent fight
before finally submitting
to my child-like rip-tearing
then comes that virgin smell
that instantly identifiable
unblemished aroma tang,
that I hurriedly deflower
with scribbled birthdays
to make my first mark
I brazenly flick-fan the pages
as if sniffing a wad
of used banknotes,
the light draft of newness
is already beginning to wane,
then the first proper entry
La Boheme in March
a gift of perfect music
a whole new year’s pages
impatiently waiting
to once again record
the ‘who knows what’
of my life
*
© Graham R Sherwood 12/22
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 