sunday driver

I avoided Death this morning,
Attacking me, with no warning.
The final curtain could be seen,
Me alone and Death in-between.

Visions of rubber, steel and might.
Modern swords preparing to fight.
Blows exchanged with a ringing sound,
Metallic blood spattered the ground.

I lived somehow, to Fate’s chagrin,
My thread of life still stretched thin.
Death, in defeat, took what he could,
A drunken fool to wrap in wood.