abacus

Rows of days hang
like washing down the years..
hued in shades of pain
or joy

stringing like grey beads,
revolving, hung in time
on the abacus of my life,
.

What have i learnt?
I am fixed on a pin
in the here and now;
faced with change again.

Life beckons freedom and risk,
the days are mine to
paint as i choose.

I want to paint in red.
in red.