yeah yeah, nothing for you to boast about – br ‘100 good ones would be quite enough… br no, make that 20 – who’s got time for more, br even if they were masterpieces…’ br br So perhaps, merely a little quiet satisfaction br in a personal kinda way: I guess br retirement years hang heavily for some, br recalling days of authority, command; br others find them richer, busier than ever; or br do just the same jobs as they did so well, except br they don’t get paid for it… br br or you can put all your ego in one basket – br try to do the one thing well; after a life br of unfinished jobs and hasty jobs, br and jobs you dreamed of and yet never did… br br or, there’s poetry: if speech is actually the Word br that set the cosmos on its merry way, that br sings the praise of gods or human enterprise, or br draws attention to the sunlight on a wall; br melts the heart; reveals, relates br the physical and the metaphysical; br raises the spirits, lights the mind… then, br poetry’s no bad thing br to sieve, to pour a lifetime into; br br and if, as the statistics state, br 400 of those 1,000 poems get a reading, averaging br two people each, around the world and every day – br then perhaps, a little quiet pride, a hope br that something useful has been tried br in these last years on earth… br br a small gift to the fleeting soul, br the ferryman’s so solemn toll br to help it on its way; a fee br to offer; if that were, shall be, br what’s appropriate..