When death comes
I would like to meet her old
Not like the age but like old
friends
Sitting on a table and catching
up with life
She telling me all her stories
of time and me mine.
Mine you see are, well honestly
"plain"
Yet she, with open arms sipping
her whisky, listens
I go on and on with everything
I've got!
Eventually we arrive at now,
Having relived all my past and every what if that is not!
At now, Silence
In that silence, I sense
something
an understanding that my time is
up and her drink is over.
I smile nervously and she with
her kind eyes.. "it's time" she whispers.
Together We get up, hand in hand,
Clear my tab and leave.
