Are they waiting for me patient,
as I’m caught up in the game
Are they counting down the moments,
till I breathe my last refrain
Do they wonder why I dawdle,
with an opening so wide
Do excuses stoop to waddle,
as my tardiness contrives
Is that light beyond my tunnel,
to burn forever long
Is the torch that lights my funeral,
one to mark and count upon
What now keeps me in this moment,
as new paths have cleared away
Is it something that I haven’t said,
—or wishes still to pray
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)