My Good Friend

My Good Friend

By MG Hicks

Oh, how he has followed me through the years, 

His hand tracing my foggy memories as he did for those before.

Oh, my good friend Death. 

He strikes great fear in many but walks along slowly

every holy hour, never abandoning his post. 

Oh, my good friend. 

He is akin to a worn-in kind of man wagging a cigarette in an old

pickup, yapping about the meaning of life. 

Oh, my friend. 

My good friend Death was never actually the spirit of death,

but of life instead.