I am a young man,
and Life has offered me her outstretched palm.
She says, “Take it,” but I hesitate,
Mulling over my options.

Then life slowly begins to draw her hand away.
I should be sweating now, but I sit quietly
in my chair as a hand
enters the room next door
and carries a close friend out in her palm.

I look around. There are other palms,
which open to my sensuous touch.
I stand up, gaping at all the options.
“Which one should I choose!” I exclaim,
while Life’s hand begins to gain speed.

I walk to keep up,
and convince myself I have time,
that the liberty of choice is mine.

Now I walk briskly,
as I ponder which hand to take.
The hair behind my ears begins to gray.

I am jogging now,
stubbornly refusing to grab hold,
because I am only in my late forties.
And I still have time…right?

The hand is not next to me anymore—
And neither is any other.
Life’s palm is higher off the ground
and my body feels older than before.

I am running at a sprint, my legs beginning to buckle.
“Wait!” I cry. “I accept!”
But she is too far away to hear me.
“You can’t,” I gasped, “…my chance!”

I yell, with a fist at the air.
But she is off in the distance, a speck.
I stand here, drained by age.

Now an old man, I turn
and trudge slowly back
to my Final resting place.