Aye, we invited Death to come along.
Like a crow flying among nightingales,
After a few swallows, he sang our song.
Counting down bottles and whispering hails,
Seated at tables, persuading the scheme.
He said, “Fear me not, I do as I’m told,
“Forgive the intrusion, life’s no daydream.”
We plead, “Come not now, but when we are old.”
“Will ye be cherishers of life?” he asked,
“Now, caretakers of an interim land.”
At once, silence fell, we were all unmasked,
Grieving our loneliness, fearing our stand.
We all dispersed, no numbers we exchanged.
He said, “Next we cross, be not so estranged.”
Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.