Not Today ©

A young child falls deathly ill,

a germ carried by winter's chill

and taking many.

She brushed my cheek for days

and thought of many ways

she could take me.

Love and care and medicine

ushered health back in

and she moved on.

Not today.

A joyous leap into the motel pool,

breaking mother's stern rule

of swimming alone.

She pulled gently at my feet,

hoping my fate I would meet

at the age of six.

Vigilant mother happened upon,

dove in with clothes on

and pulled me safe.

Not today.

A young man does unwise things,

as the seductive voice sings

of the rush of danger.

She urged me to go ever faster,

to prove that I was the master,

and not caution.

Another safer flier was on alert

and narrowly able to avert

a certain end for both.

Not today.

An older man now, but still free

to exercise his right to be

on the road.

She grows impatient and employs

others for the work she enjoys.

since I am unwilling.

Her staff of death narrowly missed

as my face its wind kissed;

the black monster failed.

Not today.

She grows desperate, unable to shake

my freedom from her, to make

me fear her.

Resorting to placing a random stick

no more than a finger thick,

to upend me.

She almost succeeded with this one;

an inch either way, and I was done.

Death or worse than.

Not today.

I know of those before who have been taken,

and many more having been shaken

into fearing her.

Even though I have felt her breath

and her cold fingers of death,

She will not take me yet.

I will not acknowledge her power,

will not hide or cower,

I will live each day.

© copyright 2009 mikeramsey