Death, 
Who would I be,
If long ago,
You had not brushed against me?

Would I be a common laborer,
Or workman in a field,
Full of laughter and happiness,
A lovers arms, closely held?

Would I be a powerful executive,
Directing from the Top?
Able to control many workers,
Not to mention, controlling myself.

Would I be surrounded by many friends,
All wanting to catch my ear?
Instead of spoiling friendships,
And spending my time alone.

Would I be surrounded by my children,
And their children shouting "Grandpa"?
Instead of being filled with regrets,
And emptiness on my birthdays.

Would I have peace and happiness,
As was given from above?
Instead of getting what peace is possible, for me,
From a bottle of pills, without love.

Would my life be happier and saner?
This answer I do not know.
I would not have to answer if,
Death, had not, brushed me years ago.
 

©Ben Drake (1999)