Death came knocking
on that cold, misty morn,
as birds were welcoming
the early crack of dawn.
He knocked and knocked,
but no answer did come.
For little did he know,
death had already
been and gone.
His little furry friend,
had crept through
the darkness of night,
just to put an end,
to the faltering life lights,
those lives flickering
like broken streetlights.
Death came knocking,
The weather kicking up a storm.
The wind whipping
his gown away,
and now he was forlorn.
For there he stood
naked as the day he was born,
Open to the elements,
the leaves in the trees
with mirthful glee,
did sway.
Death came knocking,
dressed in a flowery frock.
Grabbed from a washing line,
It was either that or a sock.
His bones sat in shock,
trying to hide their misery,
but Death
had a smile on his face,
He thought
the dress was pretty,
but when he figures out
who is doing his work,
he thinks he may just snap
As the early worm
dug in deep,
the birds still looking
for something to eat.
Daisy the cat watched
the scene merrily,
screeching a high-pitched meow,
"I am Death now.
Old bones
should just
throw in the towel"
Thanks for reading
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