Young Man
By John Haines
I seemed always standing
before a door
to which I had no key,
although I knew it hid behind it
a gift for me.
Until one day I closed
my eyes a moment, stretched
then looked once more.
And not surprised, I did not mind it
when the hinges creaked
and, smiling, Death
held out his hands to me.
Copyright Credit: Reprinted from ABZ: A Poetry Magazine, No. 1, 2006, by permission of the author. Copyright © 2006, by John Haines, whose most recent book of poetry is Of Your Passage, O Summer, Limberlost Press, 2004.
Source: 2006