The Question At Five A.M. (For Anjani) Poem by r james sterzinger

Life's a measure of gain and loss
What we have, how much it cost
The dance it comes in minuets
How it ends is anyone's bet
We have ceremonies under steeples
Have a family made with damaged people
Then we find another muse
Divorce our wives, the old excuse

All the lessons we're bound to learn
The easiest ones will get us burned
We'll find our friends we'll hold court
Some we'll take to the grave
How many though we will abort?
It's all there is in life's big game
All that's left is our battered name

We get old we slough off skin
What we have left goes to next of kin
Life is just an embarrassing tale
We break all hearts before we set sail
The whole thing causes me to pause
Wonder even if it's worth the cost
To make all this worthless rhyme
To die one increment at a time

So forget that I don't call you on the phone
I guess I'd rather die here alone.
So dying's the end of all this fun
My muse too has left
This poem's done.