An Entreaty With Angel

There was a call. They were the answer. Hurriedly . . .
Thankfully, they came. They saw the reason.
Accordingly, they did all what they could, and then,
With much, much urgency, they left with me!
The scream of siren--I did not hear, but these words I did . . .
Like a shot in the dark--loud and clear, so very, very clear:
"To Queen of Angels Medical Center!"
...and a man in white said, "This guy's going!"
I learned from my wife--days later that I was indeed
"Going," but that those who came and saw the reason for
The "call" kept me from "crossing over." And then--
Darkness! Total! After what seemed like forever,
I heard a woman's voice, "It's time. Come! Come with me!"
"Okay, but wait! Can I take my pen and notepad, and my
Albums and tapes of Neil, Roger, Engelbert and James?
And--oh, yes! My albums of Bruce?" I pleaded.
And thereupon--a chuckle (I reckoned, she must be
Bruce's fan, too), and then--
Emphatically, "No! You won't need them at all, where
I'm taking you."