Are they waiting for me patient,
  as I’m caught up in the game

Are they counting down the moments,
  till I breathe my last refrain

Do they wonder why I dawdle,
  with an opening so wide

Do excuses stoop to waddle,
  as my tardiness contrives

Is that light beyond my tunnel,
  to burn forever long

Is the torch that lights my funeral,
  one to mark and count upon

What now keeps me in this moment,
  as new paths have cleared away

Is it something that I haven’t said,
—or wishes still to pray

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)