the poetry of Charles Fry

5 March 1998

when Death first called my name

When death first called my name,
I knew not how to answer.
I looked around a little to see
if I was still alone or not,
then looked up at him and asked, "me?"
"Why of course," death replied.
And so I slowly stood up and
started following him.

Up a long flight of stairs he took me,
spiraling around the world.
We got half way up, then I turned to him
and said, "no, you can't be serious."
"Well," he replied, "we'll just see about that."
And that's when I knew that he wasn't joking.

I looked over the rail,
and thought for a while that I might try jumping.
But he only looked at me and laughed, and
said "go ahead; the fall will probably kill you."

Copyright © 1998 Charles Fry