When
When I sweat the big sweat
Shut my eyes
Shudder, die and descend
To the Stygian shore
(which may look alot like the Hudson
Only darker-sliding) ,
I will quickly locate the ferry gate
And after a little wait
Offer its famous boatsman a poem
Noting it my only fare.
Then, I predict, he'll sniff 'what's this for',
(having known every past form of coercion)
Shake it out, briefly, and moving his lips
Begin to read it, leaning on his oar.
I further expect, as he reads, to see brightening
His tired eyes, and a smile
To race his dour face;
That finishing the now-damp poem
He'll look me appraisingly up and down,
Sigh, tip cap and say,
'All aboard, Sir, there's a seat for you here,
Estimable shade, your table is waiting,
People are expecting you, even there,
On the other side.
No one said you'd be coming today-
How's the weather up there, anyway?
I sincerely hope you'll enjoy your stay
With us, and find everything here to your liking'.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Added by Poetry Lover
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