Not of earth or sky
A bridge allows us to be
Elevated yet secure
On his death-bed Arthur lay, all still and white
And they doubted if he'd even last the night.
Neighbour, Family and Friend
Said 'Poor Arthur! It's the end!'
For his chances of recovery were slight.
Then he smelt a quite familiar kitchen-smell!
It was something he remembered very well!
A cookie smell for sure!
It came wafting through the door!
A smell that all through life had rung a bell!
Arthur stirred himself and rose up in his bed;
'I must eat a final cookie!' Arthur said,
And he shuffled down the hall
Keeping steady by the wall,
Hanging on to life by just the merest thread!
In the kitchen, though his hand began to shake,
He decided which hot cookie he would take;
But his wife's voice rent the air.....
'Arthur Hudson! Don't you dare!
Don't you think of touching those! They're for the wake!'