Waiting For Death

WAITING FOR DEATH Daily I strolled, past this old man's house And there he sat, from dawn to dusk His mien, tenebrific uncompromisingly Hunched in his chair, dried to the bone Cold and crabby, waiting...just waiting And so I dared ask one dreich, dreary day "Good sir, what keeps you out here everyday? "For I see, it takes a mighty bit of your time" He spared me a frown, s disturbance I'd say "I'm waiting for Death, that crafty crafty lout" Confused I was, that one would pass time thus I leaned on his fence, my curiosity compelled For to me, this was one quite curious event "Won't let that philistine sneak up on me" he said "I'm smarter you see, won't be caught unawares" "I made no investment, no profit I stacked" "I lived my whole life at the barest I could" "And stored not treasure, for that it would steal" "And had me no pleasure, Ha! a surprise it'd be" "Let death come for me, there is nothing to take" I walked away, contemplating the perplexity How a life would be wasted in such a wary way For to await an event with no appointment And to deprive oneself over such a quandary Is in itself, i'd clearly say, a sad, very sad life.