I haven't much time, You gesture,
(turned up at my door for a visit)
wagging a finger, tapping
an imaginary wristwatch. Stay present,
You say. Fearlessly value each moment.
But, serving tea, I begin to worry --
my china set cheap and tarnished;
my tea of low quality, fingers trembling,
words awkward. I get shaky
whenever You look my way.
I worry some imprudent word or gesture
might send You prematurely to the door.
Which prompts a vision of my house
even bleaker than before
with You gone from it.
After a time, You rise,
take Your leave. Next time,
You gesture, next time,
(tapping the imaginary wristwatch) --
trust Me with your life!
O child of God, how foolish! Afraid
of losing that which is eternally present.