Doppelgänger
I met my double late one night
Coming up the stair.
I would have scolded loud and long
Except he wasn’t there.
“Why keep these dreadful hours?” I cried.
“Why don’t you wash our hair?”
I met my double New Year’s Eve.
He had a peaked look.
As I danced wildly by his side
He shivered and he shook.
“You look done in, old man,” I sneered.
“Go home and read a book.”
I met my double just at dawn,
A sunrise fogged and dim.
I’d staggered down a graveyard path.
“My, you are looking grim!”
He led me to a yawning grave.
He laughed—and shoved me in.
Published in Infinitum, read on Julesworks
