When I cross the Styx,
let me
rejoin her
and
experience the aftertaste
of a
delicious meal;
recall
works of art:
a film, a
novel, a poem,
the warmth
of a blanket
on a cold
winter day,
the wash of
cold beer
over my
parched tongue,
the taste
of Irish Whiskey
and wine, red
or white,
the exhilaration
of winning
a race, a
prize, a contest
Finally,
being greeted
by a
welcoming God.
