by Scott Steven
A humorous rhyme about a visit from the angel of death.
Death Came Knocking
By Scott S. Batchelor
Death came knocking at my door; I paused to let him in,
Considering that in the end, you know he's gonna win.
I took his cloak and offered drink, a seat beside the fire,
a place to hang his sickle up, for surely he would tire.
After rest and pleasant chat, Death stood to take his leave,
Off he'd go to hit the road, someone to go bereave.
Before he started for the door, he stopped to turn my way,
"Why ever did you let me in? Most folks keep me at bay."
I looked him in his hollow eyes to leave in him no doubt,
"You looked like Death." I told him flat. We laughed as he walked out.