Death, to me, is a stranger;

Death, to me, is a stranger;

   I know not his whereabouts.

I’ve seen him but haven’t heard -

   I know of him but we’ve not met.

He spoke at length with my elder

   And convinced him to go.

I got to say good-bye before

   He left, but of Death, I don’t know.

He seems so popular among

   Celebrities - distant and queer.

With the sickly, too, he throngs -

   Too important to come here

Although once, without persistence -

   Death did rap upon my door.

I was busy - I did not answer

   So he left a calling card.

Reviews

[June bug]

Wow, This is amazing....
enjoyed this write

[Secretpoet]

An excellently written poem