Death came to stay...

I was asleep that day when Death knocked
on my door
just wanting to pass the time-as you do.
he left a message,
nicely written it was
full of lovely words.
After reading I put it in my drawer
for safe keeping
determined to be out when he called again.

I don't mind Death,
I'm not prejudiced,
but once is enough-
and I'd rather he kept it at that.

I heard on the grapevine that he
was busy with my neighbours-
from that point on had little spare time as it were,
his hands full with administering to the sick,
taking succour to the old
and generally being a guardian angel to everyone.


Its was years before he returned,
this time when he knocked I opened the door and invited
him in. I had tea and biscuits ready,
a jam sandwich or two.
I let him sit on my most comfortable chair
and turned on the TV.
I watched him die. It was a good death.
I threw his bones into a black bag and left it
the following morning by my dustbin,
said a prayer over his remains
and walked slowly towards eternity.