Expired Invitation

The life leaves long before the end is nigh

A splash of darkness
passed above a whiter snow
than ever I have dared to see.

Like a picture book in dreamscape,
the shadow grabbed my hands.
And urged that I should fly with them
beyond my gray horizons
in search of storied lands
and starlit seas.

At last, long last, I said,
that "I'm not really dead,
Just pretending—"
what a monstrous word to say—
and bid my final fairy go.

Like the stone so far below
against the chilling waves,
teetering on the ledge
I face ten thousand grayed-out dawns.

Every morn I warn myself again
the day has come to follow them.