Stay

Each day that I live takes me a step further away

from infancy, and a day closer to the day I will die.

Would I be remiss to reminisce when I am blue?

Or should I call on the fulness of time

and be placed at the head of the queue?

But hold it right there.

I’ve at least some time to spare.

Before I vanish, I’d like to try

to have good times and laugh till I cry, to bathe ‘til I’m dry,

and to count all the floaters when I peer at blue skies.

Every time I wake is not a mistake,

but a blessing of breath

to stay my death

for yet another day.

 

 

© David Girard 11/10/20

 

 

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