Account overdrawn

If only I could see an end,

and know what time there is to spend,

I may, perhaps, withdraw some days

with no more thought of he who pays.

 

And then when I had no days left,

with those remaining so bereft,

some weeping, sad, and quite forlorn,

I’d tarry there where I was born.

 

I’d hold your hand, and you would seek

the source of breath upon your cheek,

and then I’d whisper in your ear.

You’d know my presence, feel me near.

 

But, sadly, my account was bare.

There were no extra days to share!

And no withdrawal ever made.

The bank was empty, so I paid!