Richard Pierce

Life, Poetry

Not The Right Time

I saw death loitering
By the back door
Out of the corner of my eye,
Briefly illuminated by the glow
Of my pre-dawn cigarette.

She sniffed at the smoke,
Stepped lightly onto the path,
Smiled under her cap,
“Not the right time,”
Shrugged and disappeared.

I turned full circle, looked
For her in the mizzle, and saw
Nothing. No movement except me,
No sound except my breath,
And the rain on the roof.

My cigarette glowed down to
My lips, the heat painful and
Fragrant on my tongue. I
Stooped to put it out,
And went back into the light.

2 Comments

    1. tettig2019

      3rd February 2021 at 21:40

      That means so so much to me.

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