Mike Riese's son Josh wrote this for his brother Kyle after Kyle had a close call. I think it's a great, heartfelt poem, and am very pleased to put it out here, with permission.
Every afternoon we play games with Death.
Daring him to grab our hands as we climb higher.
Laughing with him as we sled down ice covered roads.
We taunt him as we hang upside down over the quarry.
Cause every afternoon as we grow older we know.
We know that some afternoon Death will find us,
Finally catch up after years of hide and go seek.
But I never knew how Death would come dressed to meet us.
Whether he'll be wearing his cancer tee
Or maybe his heart attack sweats.
I always pictured him in his brain aneurism cap
Smiling like he knew all along.
Never did I think you were still hanging with him.
Daring him to beat you to the bottom of the bottle.
Never did I think of Death as a drinker.
And who knew that he was any good at playing asshole.
But, the truth of the matter is that he does drink,
And he nearly killed you with those bottles of Jack.
Six breaths a minute are only a few away from a free ride
in Death's pick-up truck.
But you won.
You won little brother
And not by much.
Even though I don't like it I know
You will continue to hang with him.
Continue to play games.
But just because he isn't around one night
Doesn't mean you have to go out and meet up with him.
Joshua M. Riese
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