One More Time
I live encore —
just to end the day,
to see the sunset once more.
I was, as usual, in my bed,
watching the fire
turn the sky blood-red,
when I heard someone knock
at my door.
It felt unfamiliar,
yet a sound I’d heard before.
It was Death — the old boy —
wearing pink,
his hair clearly dyed.
The robe read in letters:
“Black is a cliché,
and pink is my vibe.”
I asked if he could wait —
maybe a few minutes more.
He asked,
“What for?
What else do you want to do now
that you haven’t done before?”
I replied,
“The sky is on fire.
Let me catch her as she runs ablaze.
For decades I have watched the evening show —
it has always held my gaze.”
So he nods at me
and lets me go.
I stare at her —
she sets the sky on fire once more.
The fire is extra bloody tonight.
She tells me,
“Sit back. Relax.
Enjoy your last show.”
Last show — oh no!
I watch her again with crying eyes.
Death creeps in through a tiny crack,
lays his hand upon my head,
and holds me back.
He says,
“You’ve watched her for decades —
was it not enough?”
Curio replies —
“Is it ever?”
-Curio Athena
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