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47, the dead

According to the Neapolitan grimace, 47 is the dead, although Petrolini thought otherwise.
It’s a bit in the middle but much closer to 50 than 40, which I don’t particularly like. I realised that I had not written anything for eight months, and writing these two lines was a challenge.
It was a tough time for me, mainly because I was forced to be patient, let time pass, and accept some things I would not have usually taken.
But despite everything, I have started to be optimistic again and think this will pass.
So, happy birthday to me; I blow out the candles and make a wish.

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