Poems?...

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Title: I hold death’s hand with a long stick.

I hold death’s hand with a long stick.

Why? Where are we walking?
I don’t know.

But I know I found the stick somewhere around 5th grade.

I was tired of walking for so long without any support.

I remember when I first fell when I was seven.

But I got up.

I’ve had a hold on this thick oak branch for awhile.

I walked alone until one day death showed up offering me its hand.

I almost took it, but had second thoughts,

I offered it the other end of the stick.

It took the stick.

Since then the stick gets longer some days and shorter others.

I hold death’s hands with a long stick.