Blind Date (Poetry)

I imagine that I've glimpsed him, now and then,
distant, where the shadows softly blend
the edges of reality and dreams
and nothing is entirely all it seems...

A stranger who I dare believe is kind
and patient - lets a lady take her time,
gentle with his quiet, unhurried ways,
counting down the intervening days

until we meet. I've never seen his face,
nor set a date or settled on a place,
no formal invitation sent as yet,
but Fate has all in hand and won't forget

our destiny - the calling card of age
tucked behind the clock begins to fade,
but on some corner, this week or the next,
he's waiting for me when I least expect

to run across him, find my hour come,
flesh grown nerveless, struck completely dumb
with wonder and surprise - his welcome kiss
all I can recall of dying bliss.

I'll recognise his voice and know his name -
the keeper of eternity's dark flame,
tender as he tucks me in his bed
to share the comforts of the grateful dead.

I have no doubts, I'm sure Death is a gent -
his shy and subtle courtship's surely meant
to captivate, but marriage would, of course,
be absolute - no chance of a divorce.