"How do you do down there?"
"Pray, how do you do up there?"
With smiles, we greeted each other,
On a misty morning of the last winter.
His frail figure looked somewhat divine,
And then the voice too sounded like mine.
"You are doing well, here, mister"
"Good. I have expected the very same for ever"
He seemed very much in a hurry,
"Hope to catch you mate, but later, sorry!"
"Tell me, would it hurt very bad?"
"Don't worry about it, you can't change it, lad!"
And with only that he waved me good-bye
Yet, if only he had told me when! Oh-no-why?
Upon a second thought: good that he did not
It was not the constant fear of it that I sought.
Yet, would have liked to have a talk,
Everything of the heavenly things I would ask.
Would have like to know him more,
His experiences, and of course, the strange new gear.
I wished that the meeting would last;
For he was my very own ghost: living in his past!