Utterly butterly

The previous post got rather wordy. To ensure there is no misunderstanding this is Tone Deaf's final utterance. 

In an emergency email robinson.roderick@gmail.com.

Valediction

Colette (see previous post): I was never short of things to write; but for me a blog without dialogue was incomplete. But you’re right in general, I’m dithering. Here’s why

On April 13, 2017 I wrote a speculative, “literary” post about thoughts passing through the minds of a man and woman who’ve recently met and may have, experienced mutual attraction. Thoughts not so much about each other but about the nature of what is happening. Time passes. Thoughts are modified; new perspectives occur. Nothing is resolved.

There are eight comments (some by me): the lengths are 24 words, 212, 38, 171, 150, 464, 66 and 44. Everyone sticks to the theoretical and abstract nature of the scenario. There are some differences of opinion. My original ideas are greatly enhanced by the views of others. Clearly Tone Deaf readers then had the ability, the inclination and the interest to expend this kind of effort.

If I thought that this might happen again putting down Tone Deaf  would be off the agenda. As it is I’m pessimistic.

But here’s some ragtag verse

A figure of speech

I age and from this ever steep decline
Horizons, once so far away, are just
A hand’s breadth out. Yet they are silent.

Nearer but mute. Those corridors of words
That spawned a dialogue of wit and charm
Linking me then to the Pacific coast,
The Tasman Sea, the alleyways of Prague,
Upstate/downstate echoes from the USA,
And – goodness me! – the sleep of Tunbridge Wells:
All quiet now.
Just fading memory. 
The world contracts.
The fault is mine.

Age is the prophet of death’s terminus
And death’s the biggest bore of all in life.
An irony! On that I’ll contemplate.
I would not have you catch this malady.