Verses are due sat anyways, so I'm fine with an ext to sunday if you need it. drive safe
introduce the hobble walk...
lost upon the leaves and twigs, far beyond the cobble top,
gravel ways and stoney paths,
death would ask directions like a scratch upon the phonograph,
Scholomance-y graduate, author of the dying wish,
beasts of all were scared of Skull, from mighty bears to flying fish,
this, perhaps, the first that death had ever really felt alone
where maps and compass magnets broke in searching where to go
so introduce the hobble walk...
swinging to, and so afraid his skele-head would topple off
the poorest Grim with nay the salt nor viscera to shed a tear
but rather watch the birds a-flock with screaming squawks that "Death is near!"
barely even dead a year... yet rep, it seemed, preceded.
so hung a weary scythe and jaw as forest fiends retreated.
"the nerve" - thought I - my humble home disturbed,
"the nerve of troops, of broods and droves, of colonies and herds."
the poorest Grim! he needed only guidance out.
and this the kind of welcoming? the hissing of the frightened crowds?
I shook the beard and cleared the bits of lumber dust,
"at very least", I thought to me, "respect the ones that humble us."
so introduce the hobble walk...
"hello! ahem, I... worry not. I'm not afraid!"... I waddled on.
stumbled once, and tripping as he ran to me,
I felt at ease that death, of me, was really truly glad to see.
"right away!... er, follow me!" I point along the path,
my liver spotted fingers grasp into his boney hands...
I told him all my plans. like, when I was a child,
I'd tell the trappers jokes, they wouldn't leave without a smile!
or, simple me at seventeen, how flustered by her laugh,
I sold my cow to buy her gifts in hopes to make it last.
we trod along like happy mice... whiskers to the breeze.
he asked me of the canopies and mysteries of trees
I told him all my secrets. my hobbies as a youth,
the reasons I had run away, and do what I can do,
to find the simple wonders... like cutting with a saw!
or, itching back against the stone that's covered with a moss,
honestly, I guess I shared an awful lot...
my mind, so full of memories, had finally wandered off.
the forest edge was closing in, I pointed him the way,
he motioned me to follow him... he wanted me to stay!
I took his brittle hand in mine. I'm ready for a friend,
though even I, and hermit kind, knows everything must end,
I shared a quiet smile... for surely he would know,
the cloak, scythe and toothy grin that walked so many home...
oh. finally I realize - who of us was truly lost.
I hope my friend will visit me until my coffin rots.