"The Stranger"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
About a man that knows his last days are coming...

Submitted: February 28, 2017

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Submitted: February 28, 2017

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“The Stranger”

 

 

He knew that he was coming for him,

He had already taken his share,

And the time had come,

To balance the books,

And there wasn’t a Damn thing,

He could do about it.

During the day,

He just sat in his chair,

Staring out the window,

Thinking he might just see him coming.

As if the stranger would just,

Stroll up the walkway,

All dressed up,

With a sign,

Proclaiming his murderess intentions.

Maybe if I could talk to him,

Bargain or bribe him,

He’d give me more time.

He didn’t know,

There were no exceptions,

No trading,

No bartering,

No exceptions.

When the stranger comes to collet,

He never leaves the debt unpaid.

He doesn’t sleep much anymore,

Afraid the stranger will show up,

While he’s sleeping,

Leaving him unable to make his case,

His bid for an extension of time.

When his day finally did arrive,

It happened just as he had hoped.

He saw the stranger through the window,

Staring him straight in the eye,

As he walked with purpose,

Right up the porch steps,

Straight into his,

Last moments of life.

He rose out of his chair to face him,

And with more confidence,

Than most men,

He presented a very pervasive argument,

As to what he has done,

With the time he had been given,

To all the great things,

He could do for him,

If only he’d be given,

More time to complete them.

The stranger patiently listened,

To all that he had to say,

But he had heard,

All the pleas before,

From men much greater than he.

The stranger just gazed into his eyes,

Till he had finished,

And before the last words left his mouth,

He knew that none of what he had just said,

Was going to make any difference at all.

So he sat back down in his chair,

And watched the contrail,

Of a passing 767 passenger jet,

Dissipate into the blue,

Of the summer sky.

As the stranger silently reached out,

And touched his shoulder.

The last of the contrail disappeared,

As if it had never existed,

As did the life of a man,

Who no longer existed.

The stranger pulled out,

A heavy black book,

And in it he wrote,

“Payment Received In Full”,

Signed Death…

 

Tom Allen…02-21-2017…

 

 

 


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