DINKY

"Single or return?" the clerk enquired.
"What do you mean - 'return' ?",  I said,
"The journey's all one-way and straight ahead.
We can't come back when we've expired."

"Sorry." she said, "I didn't make it clear.
Of course you can't be born anew
but what you can do is to make the view
of life when you were young appear

again."
           "What ! Why would we do that?  We're not
just kids. We're adult and enjoy
the perks of middle age . . . . "
                                             "But they will cloy !
Age makes both brain and body rot

and makes your life a motorway to death,
careering down the fast lane, freed
(you think) from all the fines for too much speed.
The scenic route gives pause for breath."

"Now look here, lady ! What gives you the right
to lecture me on how to spend
my life? Just you watch out or you'll offend
my wife who does that job each night !"

"Sorry again," she said, "but I don't see
that you have children anywhere.
Without them life is just a single fare
but with them you repeatedly

return, through children and grandchildren too,
to wonder born of innocence.
Such joy surpasses pounds and pence.
Consider while there's time, your wife and you."

Perhaps the clerk was more than what she seemed;
in the room behind, her sister spun
a thread; another measured what she'd done;
beside her, well worn scissors gleamed.