A Piece of my Jigsaw

I am like a single piece of the whole jigsaw puzzle.

And I am missing.

I am lost.

Misplaced, forgotten, unwanted.

There is in me a memory of fitting in, of being part of a whole

either in the box or on the board in place.

But that memory needs refreshing, as it is almost lost now.

Oh, woe!

How can I be refreshed when I am lost?

How can I be again part of the whole again when it was a unique puzzle, and I am a unique puzzle piece?

I was friends once with another lost jigsaw piece who was strange in that he still had his box, but he was the only piece remaining of that puzzle. Who knows what happened to the other pieces. I couldn’t draw him on the subject at all. The thing is that with his box he wasn’t really lost, all the other pieces were but like me he was alone and unwanted – who wanted a jigsaw puzzle with only one small piece?

Back to reality. I am a sausage again, six years old and sitting on my grandmother’s knee. My uncle and mother come in the room and ask me a question. I do not know the answer and my mother calls me a silly…

I am a missing puzzle piece. I am a bookshelf, a laptop, a bike. Woe is my name and human is my nature. Woe!

Well, this is woeful. Woes aplenty. Get yourself down to the German Market for some Christmas retail therapy. Open 7:30 to 8:30 every day.

To Be continued…

Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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