My Companion

Even on good days I can feel him there,
That old familiar stranger at my back
I've never turned round quick enough to catch
A glimpse of, my companion, in pursuit,
Walking when I walk, running when I run,
Keeping his distance from me all this time,
Yet coming nearer lately in some sense
I know about but can't quite comprehend.

I say no more than that I feel at home
Knowing him there behind me, following,
Although he must be tired of the chase
As I am tired of leading him a dance.
One day when he starts limping, I shall limp;
And if he falls down dead that night, what then?
I cannot say I like his company
But what I'll do without it heaven knows.
...