The following four poems have in common a rather disturbing subject – take care.
Have I imagined it,
Or does everyone move much faster now?
Everyone but me that is.
Or am I moving faster too, somehow,
Since our velocities are relative?
That can't be true can it?
I'm sure that I've not changed, so there must be
Something obvious I've missed;
One of those things I now find hard to see.
Perhaps I'm dead, and no one has noticed.
They would have mentioned it,
I'm sure. Although I don't hear all that's said
These days, even when I'm told.
But take comfort, if this is being dead,
It's really not much worse than being old.