He was an acquaintance of friends, but
he and I have never been introduced.
He gives a casual nod of the head,
a fleeting, passing acknowledgement that
he’s seen me hanging around before.
With a shrug, I nod back, as
we both turn from each other.
I remember the first time I saw him,
when I learnt his name, but he
doesn’t seem to know mine…yet.
I bear him no malice or ill will.
I wonder when we’ll formally meet,
when will that day come when I hear
my name on Death’s lips?
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caught me off guard… especially with your title. I enjoyed the slow lead to your conclusion.
As I wrote this I was imagining death as a nonchalant male teenager in a black hoodie!
ah, good idea. I am going to do the same and see what comes of it.
Let me know how you get on 😊