My Santiago

The Unwelcome Guest

When Death arrives, It never calls ahead. Just lobs in on the front doorstep, Unannounced and damned inconvenient. In the midst of life, It lurks- Takes you to task, Like the Victorian parent - frowning on your fun Telling you it is time to leave, Just when leaving was but a distant event. You catch it - in odd moments, Scurrying furtive, - across dim alleyways of the mind. Hands dug deep in trench coat, Collar upturned, Snap brimmed fedora - pulled firmly over a face which is Square jawed, cast in shadows.

Ever present, never there, A minor misgiving, Diminutive blot, Pitted on the palette of our lives. Intransigent, elusive, Never developed, never concrete,

Vague, shadowy, And simply there!

Waiting, Biding its time. Patient, Supreme in the certainty That you too will succumb to it At sometime Soon enough… soon enough…