When the story of my life is writ
All the chapters set, the headings bold
You may miss the most important bit
For it’s in the margins life is told
You may spot the notes in spidery hand
Crammed alongside work and daily grind
All the treasures of events unplanned
And creative doodles of the mind
They may not connect to life’s main plot
Or the tidy order on display
They may be the things that time forgot
Or the flash of colour in the grey
The main narrative may well be true
But it misses chaos, love and flair
It may chart the course on which I flew
Yet say nothing of my soul’s great dare
All the times I detoured and got lost
Or indulged in poetry and art
When I gave and did not count the cost
Or glimpsed the whole beyond the parts
When the story of my life is told
When the scribbling pen has come to rest
Just remember, as the tale unfolds
It’s in the margins that I lived the best
— Wayne Visser