we the fortunate few

sat jammed in an early morning room

with coffee and rolls

while everyone else slept

or nursed hangovers

a slow contraption brought forth an emaciated man

with bright eyes and artificial voice

stunned by our fortune

we rose as one and greeted him as he deserved

he spoke to us of life and dreams and possibilities

then Stephen Hawking slowly rolled away

and into my memory forever

Copyright Michael Douglas Scott