WAITING PATIENTLY

WAITING PATIENTLY

Waiting patiently for Death to call,
I turn and face this desolate wall,
And listen for his footfalls forlornly in the hall.

His wasted form ingratiates,
His presence it emaciates.
My body it has wasted like a puzzle picture pasted
Up against the backdrop of my life’s remains.

Waiting patiently for Death to call
With his trademark scythe and blood stains.

With his long black coat and staff
And his grim and haunting laugh.

Waiting patiently for Death to call,
For I have had my fill,
Of holding on long past my prime,
Of stealing from life’s till.

Of bargaining with God for one or two more days,
Of making promises I can’t keep to mend my evil ways.

Of putting up with scoundrels with their wagging wicked tongues,
Who leave life’s courtrooms still unscathed, both judge and jury hung.

And thankful for the wondrous gifts my life it has bestowed,
My friends that have gone with me down this long and winding road.
My lover and my partner, the crowning jewel of all my years.
I say goodbye with gratitude and a smattering of tears.

Waiting patiently on my suitor Death to make his final call,
I turn and face this desolate, lonely bedroom wall.
Listening for his footsteps so forlornly in the hall.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED