He Delays Not His Coming Poem by James Walter Orr

Two lovers in the moonlight,
Their passion holds its sway;
They meld into the shadows,
While loving comes their way.
It delays not its coming,
And yet, it does not stay.

Nine months have already passed;
The baby is now due.
He did not choose his entry;
The type of life he drew;
He delays not his coming,
To make his life's debut.

He grows into an adult,
With all his bills to pay.
He works from dawn to darkness,
Throughout each livelong day.
He delays not his coming,
To hold the wolf at bay.

The landlord makes his circuit,
Hard times to circumvent.
The companies have downsized;
The money has been spent.
He delays not his coming,
Collecting all his rent.

Age comes on silent footsteps,
One short day at a time.
It brings him to, then passes,
The essence of his prime.
It delays not its coming:
Youth stealing is its crime.

Death comes with footsteps thumping,
Ignoring cries and moans.
He heeds not the dry desert,
The cactus nor the stones.
He delays not his coming,
To show his great unknowns.

Here comes the hearse, whose driver,
Is looked upon with dread,
And always gets his cargo,
No matter where they've fled.
He delays not his coming;
His harvest is the dead.

The parson gives his sermon.
He reaches all his goals;
He stirs his congregation,
And makes them pay their tolls.
He delays not his coming,
To try to seize their souls.

Dirt falls upon the casket.
She holds a single rose,
Kisses its wilted petals,
And on the mound, she throws.
The rose delays not rooting,
Above his last repose.

The worms at once awaken;
At once they start to dine;
The body forms a compost,
The rosebush forms a shrine.
They delay not their coming,
To feed the growing vine.