Waiting

He leans upon his crooked staff, impassive face and yet, with shoulders hunched and tired still waits payment of the debt. He gazes as I check my watch then wearily turns away, yet only is my old friend Death who watches as I pray. Dark shepherd stolidly drinks in afflictions of my flesh, which do not touch the man within, nor spirit can enmesh. Though facing life without a hope my joy within’s undaunted, I’m happy for each measured breath and precious moment granted. Suspended time in which we wait and we wait close together, he may not smile but has no hate, his job is just to gather.