Date With Death

Lying in wait for death -

 I sprang out, a little precipitately,

And rather too soon. 
Embarrassed, 

I tried to look 

Young, fit 

And nonchalant. 

Death, un-phased, (For he's seen everything: Let's face it.)

Tipped his hat,

And ventured a cheery, "Good Morning"

 Which, frankly, I found a little off-putting:

Disrespectful, even. 

" Am I too early?" I enquire,

Unconsciously imitating a granny,

At the bus-stop, with her Bus Pass. 

"And, If so, do you mind if I come back

Later?"

Death put aside his scythe

Plumped down on a handily placed
Wrought Iron Bench,

And sighed. 

Deeply.

 "I'd very much appreciate it," he said,

 (His voice! Quiet, melodious -
I know! So unexpected!) 

"If you would walk out with me today-

 I have an occasional longing for a human face 

 That isn't quite so ... .

 (In deference to the dearly departing,

 He left the sentence hanging in the air.)

Up for anything, me, 

 I look him in the sockets 

And acquiesce.

" MacDonalds?" He grins, holding out a sleeve. 

Tucking it under my arm,

I step out:

"MacDonald's!" 

 Our first date!