Death arrives
like a chill draft
in a creaking house,
when your name’s on the list
you can’t return to sender
or shift your position
to ward off the call.
Some wept,
there was laughter, too,
memories exchanged
and relief
etched the faces
of those who suspected
there went they, except,
by some trick of fate,
it wasn’t today.
Death is no thief,
just a debt collector
for this ludicrous lottery,
called life.

Published on July 10, 2017 16:05