Death of a Gambler

I buried the old gambler at dusk,
His withered hands clutching
At dice and cards.
Riches were his only hope
But his crumpled suit is empty–
No more games to play.

He only wanted one more win
And no one stopped him
From wagering all he had
And all he didn’t have.
His hand was nearly perfect,
But nearly wasn’t good enough.

Casting dice is an easy addiction
Every roll feels like the next winner
And he got used to the click and rattle
Of coins in his silk pockets.
How many would it take
To buy him peace?

He thought it a stroke of luck
When a generous man offered to pay
The incredible debt he owed
Until the man told him to give up
Every penny he had.
Giving up his old life
Came at a hefty price.

I was born a new man at dusk
My past was left in the grave
And I’m no longer clothed in regrets.
He gave me a clean suit
That had cost Him His life
Since no debt is paid for free.

I can still feel the worn dice
Still hear flicking of cards being dealt
The soft rumble of chips
Sliding into a mountain of greed.
But now I live for a reward
That can’t be bought in this life.

Friends ask me if I miss the old life
But I tell them that wasn’t life at all.