Old Friend

Death, like an old friend
waits at my chamber door
Clothed in shadow and light
Conscious of my presence
yet staying on the threshold
As if warned not to enter
I peek around the frame
Eye to eye with my oppressor
Like rats in a cage
Circling each other
Without moving a muscle
Just a hitch in my breath
Exhale fogging imaginary glass
A mirror into my soul
Beguiled and beguiling
Drawing me deeper in
I open the door wider
Beckoning my midnight suitor
To converse with me a while
Before the morning comes
Like two companions
Having a final discussion
Before one fades into the distance
And the other moves on

Death, like an old friend
waits at my chamber door
But I am no longer there.

Sam