By: Michael Vanderhoof
I pace the floor with footsteps all around the house so late,
Waiting for a special guest, an unsuspecting date.
An hour past a while ago, a couple more or two…
My time is rather limited, and my soul is almost due.
This day, it so reminds me, of the same the day before,
Again I pace around so adamantly, for the doom outside my door.
Then finally there’s a shadow, blocking out the midnight light,
My guest is finally here, and it’s a most surprising sight….
The sickle, in one boney hand, and in the other an hour glass,
For my time upon this earth, is now something of the past.
I invite this looming presence here inside across the room,
knowing every second counts, as I am soon to meet my doom.
A spread I have prepared, hoping minutes more I just might see,
Then I do the strangest thing, and I prepare two cups of tea.
My hands are trembling greatly as more time I try to pass,
Knowing well, so very well, that this moment could be my last.
Two cups are poured and there I stand, not knowing what to do…
My lips they shuttered utterly, “Would you like one lump or two?”
Not a word is ever spoken, so I assume the tea is fine.
Then I pass the cup and saucer, and I hope this buys me time.
This ever looming presence takes the cup and starts to drink…
My next move is so reluctant as my mind begins to think.
Was it one lump, or was it two, that now has death upon my floor?
I guess the math is not important, as my life is spared once more.
I live another day, and many more I plan to see,
Cheating death, will have its cost, but not this time for me.
I will live another lifetime, and make this one count the most,
As I stand before you now, as a very distinguished host.