they're having breakfast
with death.
they look him square in the eye
and ask calmly,
have another biscuit?
they're part debutante,
and part pit bull.
they could just as easily
reach across the table
and rip your throat out,
as pass you the butter.
instead,
dining daily with mortality,
they learned kindness,
and gentleness,
and patience.
to value this bit of laughter
as if it might be your last.
to cherish friends and loved ones
and never miss the chance to toast
the victory of another day.
- in memory of Hazel