The Final Visitor

The slate blue clouds massed row on row
now dominate the evening sky
A lanthorn burns in my window
What does the lanthorn signify?
That I am old and stay at home
and that I welcome visitors
Infirmities won’t let me roam,
I dare not venture out of doors
I’m weary but I cannot sleep.
I smile as I recall the past
Though roads were rough and paths were steep.
I was young and unsurpassed
by any other youthful swain
Who sought for love illicitly.
Delights I can enjoy again
if only in my memory.
I have grown old, I’ve lived too long
I wait for death to visit me.
I won’t resist but go along
without protest and joyfully
Death knows my name and my abode
that I await him patiently
Each day I live is time borrowed
I must repay eventually
Perhaps my next life will be short
if I’ve won sufficient merit.
I comfort myself with this thought
and contemplate the infinite.

by ivor or ivor.e hogg

Comments (1)

Hi Ivor, Most excellent Poetry-Story.... It will be a very, very, very, long time before death finds you. I love the lanthorn in the window, it is your light shining through your poetry. Bravo, Bravo, Ivor.....Beautiful Poetry...