Ross Leese

never think you've made it

oh and death will come in the night
like a tiger prowling through the jungle floor
there will be no goodbyes
no last words to parents or children
no time for regretting lost love—
death will not come with a tap on the shoulder
or a handshake or as a telephone call,

he will come with a knife through the back
as you stand at your window looking out
at the prettiest car you've owned in your life
death will come at you like a bullet to the heart

and you'll turn to him, just as you realize what's happened
and you'll say with your final breath

'it's time now, isn't it?'

and death will turn away from you, unanswering and soon the money
the car, the house with a window
will all be somebody else's
somebody close to you, probably somebody
you've known your entire life—

hopefully somebody with the strength
to fight off the inevitable

for a good couple of years yet.