Tis here I stand before the pearly gates,

Alone and afraid - I patiently wait,

Oh heavenly Peter, where art thou my saint?
Am I too early? Perhaps Im too late?
Why did you call me? What is my fate?
I pace back and forth; remembering my life,
What was it I did to land in such strife?
I raised a good family, was kind to my wife,
Even my comments on Facebook were liked.
Nevertheless, I was slain by a knife.
Questions unanswered the who, how and why.
Was it my mistress or some foreign spy?
Stabbed from behind as I gazed at the sky,
It no longer mattered, I thought with a sigh,
Saint Peter! I shouted Let me come inside!
The gates flung open with blinding white light,
An Angel appeared; a heavenly sight!
Heathen! it bellowed with all of its might,
You are not ready - go back to your life!
Darkness engulfed me and I awoke with a fright.
Tis here I lay now, in this hospital bed,
Troubled by thoughts invading my head,
Planning fresh changes to the life that Ive led,
Saved by doctors and nurses who said,
You shouldnt be here. You should be dead!