I have a rendezvous with Death,
Days I hope not will come,
Ere youth has sped, I'm at my best,
Ere voices sweet grow numb.
Sure some would cry it's down a long lane,
To crown their days with sleep,
Than face the road, the wind and rain,
To heed the calling deep.
Though wet nor blow nor space I fear,
Yet fear I deeply do,
Lest Death should meet and claim me ere
I'll keep its rendezvous
ŠNovember 29, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton
~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~