With icy fingers and hidden hands,
an unseen face footless stands.
Awaiting the cough of their next guest,
no’s no answer for their request.
“Follow me; your time has come,
the path is short, the feeling’s numb.
Two packs a day gives you early admission.
Your time with me is but a transition.”
The reaper laughed at their instructions,
fearing not their many abductions.
They said the pain would fade away,
but how long they wouldn’t say.
I gasped for breath, not wanting to go.
Why must it be now I didn’t know.
I said I quit the smokes a few weeks back.
“I’ve only a cold so please cut me some slack.”
They laughed again at my poor excuse.
Saying my line was long but I choose the noose.
I begged and pleaded to be set free.
They replied that they had a deal for me.
I said “that’s great”, not having a clue.
They then told me all the things I must do.
Their list was long but I happily agreed.
I’d now do anything, if to only be freed.
They said they’d go but they’d leave a scar.
Then a loud scary cry was heard from afar.
The reaper then vanished and I lay alone,
reflecting on the habits I’m prone.
A new day’s begun and life’s the more dear.
The clock’s still ticking but the ends not so near.
I bargained with death but won’t press my luck.
And my future’s now brighter, no longer a schmuck.
The feeling was eerie and the air was cold.
And luck’s the reason this story’s told.
A misty moon mourned the starless night.
Finger-like branches obscured my sight.
A wrong turn made while homeward bound.
The path was new through unknown ground.
The fog grew thicker until all was black.
One misstep and I fell with a whack.
I tripped on a stone surrounded by more,
each a marker for a one-way door.
I’m surely welcomed but my time not right.
My eyes then drawn toward the light.
In the sky a lone star shone,
in a sea of billions we’re all alone.
Minutes in awe I lay there still,
but to soar with them I never will.
Thoughts of freedom filled my head,
but first to my feet amongst the dead.
A hand reached out to aid my rise.
My star consumed to my surprise.
A faceless figure was now my guide.
With a yank I was by their side.
My fate’s now held in arms unknown,
tip-toeing through that field of stone.
Iron gates clanged for us to follow.
An end perceived I did wallow.
The wind then howled its piercing felt.
Hale was next with ice to pelt.
Each breath shorter, each step less,
each second longer with greater the stress.
Suddenly my companion then mysteriously vanished.
Blindly I pawed for the safety I’d banished.
I yelled for help with no one to hear.
To die alone my biggest fear.
A tug at my ankle then sent me running.
Slipping on ice, the fall was stunning.
Blurry snowflakes covered my face.
Would I be found here frozen in place?
With one last breath I let out a scream.
And lucky was I to awake from that dream.
When time and luck do collide,
our good fortunes cannot hide.
Eyes will open for a special day.
Doors will open and we’re on our way
We never know what lies ahead,
footsteps lead to where we’re led.
Eyes will open to a special sense.
The past is now our best defense.
Prepared are we to stand alone,
arms outreached, our distance flown.
Eyes open for a special one.
Hearts open and the future begun.
Bound as one we’ll double our best,
joy and bliss will know no rest.
Eyes will open to our special place.
Wound are we with a special face.
Hands of time will gently sweep.
Ups and downs we’ll deftly leap.
Eyes open for another special day.
Doors locked and in love we’ll stay.
I’ve got nine lives or just wasn’t ready.
I was closing a window, the rain was steady.
Then a big boom and a flash of white light,
I was struck by lightning last Friday night.
My lights went out but my heart didn’t quit.
The tree nearby suffered the hit.
I owe my life to my old friend.
I survived but it may be their end.
It’s bark blew off in a long straight line.
My hand was tingling but I won’t whine.
I turned ghostly white, let out a scream.
My life now charged and I’m living a dream.
Joy surges when thinking of you.
This bond shared I can’t believe true.
Yet I wake each morning and there you are.
Your loving embrace never ever far.
If luck there be, I have the most.
Our morning coffee’s deserving of a toast.
Days filled with laughter and peace,
every second I wish to never cease.
The future’s now, tomorrow’s unknown.
The time’s to prosper from pasts we’ve sown.
Our paths merged and the journey’s begun.
Hand in hand, we two are now one.
There once was a man from Rhode Island.
Who liked wiggling his toes in the sand.
Though it just a few times a year,
cos he held his toes quite dear.
And freezing them off he couldn’t stand.
With miles of beach,
they’re only seasonally in reach.
But walks when not freezing,
they’re still always pleasing.
And you don’t burn the peach.
Genes you see have crossed the sea,
his mom as Irish as she can be.
They being that pale as well.
Their summers a living hell.
I guess even good luck’s not free.
Happy St. Patrick’s Month!
Happiness is felt when I see you.
A kiss returned lets me know love’s true.
Fortunate am I to be granted this wish,
time together with my lovely Trish.
You make me smile when I need it most.
I’m grateful we met, you deserve a toast.
The future awaits your love song,
so I’ll keep writing, it won’t be long.
It’ll be the story of a lucky guy.
He looked to the heavens and given the sky.
His clouds paint murals of contemplation.
The wind whispers melodic inspiration.
In the dark of night visions now clear and bright.
The day’s sunlight consumed by your sight.
Sunrise’s more vibrant as each new day begins.
Sunsets shared and this lucky guy wins.
She’s spring green eyes and azalea lips,
rosy cheeks and fertile hips.
Her beauty’s beheld, never to pluck;
this clover found is my good luck.
Take from me this simple band of gold,
walk with me while we both grow old.
Hand in hand our souls inline,
I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine.
In your eyes time does melt,
returning to where love first felt.
Journey’s skyward of life excelled,
when two is one heart beats meld.
Tears and hugs and laughter shared,
stealing kisses whenever dared.
Fate and luck met at the Last Call,
boundless futures in a crystal ball.
A blues band played, forgotten ironically.
Memories are golden because nothing’s free.
The more time is spent
In the mirror, the more time
Poets see the world
Through a fish-eye and themselves
Through two-way mirrors
Good Luck –
Broken mirror shards
Though unfortunate leaves much
To reflect upon