Tag: creative writing
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“Son, I Hate My Job” I have an ever-abiding memory of my father, one that haunts me to this day. I remember, early one morning, bumping into him as I made my way to the bathroom. Through my bleary eyes, I could see such weary eyes, and with a look that I can still feel…
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I can’t remember being youngOr how I got old.I can’t even rememberThose stories I’ve told. Memory loss,Now is such an affliction.How much of my life isJust pure fiction? How can I lie,If I don’t know what’s true?Honestly, mate,Would I lie to you? Yeah, I drink too much,That bit is true.Again, the line:Would I lie to…