You’re late! Forgive me, just a little joke
I use to put my passengers at ease.
Or otherwise some newly snuffed-it folk
set eyes upon the Ferryman, and freeze.
The name is Charon. At your service. Please
take care aboard this bucket of a boat,
and cross your fingers that she stays afloat!
You’ve doubtless guessed what I’m about to say,
but it’s my job to make sure that you’re told.
Before we make a start you have to pay
a token fee, a trinket made of gold.
A law I’m obligated to uphold
or I must leave you on this fearsome shore
to cuss and grieve a hundred years or more.
You might decide to sail in solemn hush
or chat about the shining life you’ve led.
It matters not to me, I’m in no rush,
but please no boring “Woe is me, I’m dead!”
I’ve heard it all before, so let’s instead
accept we’re thrown together in this fix
and bound to row this godforsaken Styx.
© 2021 Glen Scott
Image “Charon Crossing the River Styx” by David McKinney