The wooden door,
Slams against the floor,
Why I was staring at the sky,
When the intruder said hi,
With a rough smile and box in hand,
He sat down on my nightstand,
Yes, it did creak but held strong too,
As I thought of what to do,
He handed me that box of strings,
Painted on an angel with wings,
Much to my surprise,
It was a pair of dice,
He again smiled politely,
And said use them wisely,
Then he disappeared,
Like a ghost I feared,
In and out, through the days I went,
The dice sitting with lint,
When upon a day,
They started to sway,
Fall to the ground,
And twist around,
Flip up so to see,
The two numbers that couldn’t flee,
Snake eyes,
With a bond that ties,
Ties me without breath,
Ties me to death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem