I miss when the choice slider went from 1 to 2,
piss or poo.
Couldn’t pick a higher number even if you wanted to.
Now, I’m spoiled for choice.
But not by choice.
It’s foisted,
The billions of voices crying for choice, rejoice!
Not me though.
I miss when everything was less fast, more slow.
It makes my brain carbonated.
The other day Abbie overtook me, on the walk to the settee.
How am I being raced to a chill-out?
Like there’s a fire on the sofa only my ass can extinguish,
Distinguishingly relinquishing some act of youthful delinquency.
She’s as bonkers as hammers.
But, she moves faster than me.
Most people do, racing around, always on the go.
But, she didn’t push me, I wasn’t cursed.
When the rest of the world insists I move fast,
she let me be slow.
What a privilege to be allowed to come last.
She’s always putting me first.