A knock at the door catches you off guard. Upon answering it, you’re greeted by a man who says he’s from the future-and he can prove it. More important, he says he has information that will save your life.

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“I’m a man from the future,”, he said,

As he stood at my door.

“Not a future man,” I replied, with a smirk.

“Another crank!” I thought as I tried to shut the door.

“I can save your life”, the man said,

“I can bring you back from the dead.”

“How so?” was my involuntary reply,

He had startled me so suddenly.

The man needed just the excuse,

To launch into a sales spiel,

Of gene therapy and mankind’s welfare,

Of my babies’ too.

All I’d need to provide is some stem cells,

and my babies’ umbilical cords,

And they’d make sure that my kids and I live,

Well into the next century.

At least, that was the dream!

And I let him go on,

‘Cos my lovely neighbour was spell-bound,

Yes, that pretty air-hostess had eavesdropped in

On her way to her flat up.

So I let the sales rep continue,

While I drank in her beauty.

But then the tale grew gruesome,

With a turn towards needles and hospitals.

And as the lass bid adieu,

With her face pasty white.

I decided it was time to say no,

For now, I’ll live in the present!