food for thought, Poetry

Death is a frequent visitor

Death is a frequent visitor
I have seen him walking  by from time to time,
Sometimes I gaze at him through my window,
Hide immediately when he glances back,
Sometimes at my neighbor’s, he drops by,
And with a charming smile he waves me hi,
Like a teen-aged girl my heart flutters
And a moment later it screams in horror,
And like that with a minuscule gesture,
he throws my life out of order.

Death is a frequent visitor
Always, he arrives alone,
But doesn’t mind the company when he later departs,
Together giggling and making merry
He tags them all along on an unknown journey,
Death tells them not to look at the porch where mothers and daughters lay sobbing,
Death tells them not to think of fathers or sons or friends or wives,
Carefully, they all now have been cut out of their nonexistent lives,
Happily they agree,
For nobody disagrees with death,
Charming, attractive, combination of rare beauty,
Once enticed, his hypnotism can’t be broken…
Words contradicting him can never be spoken.

Death is a frequent visitor
And yet he is still a fantasy,
I saw him in my backyard,
Suddenly he came and went,
Befriended a man I had once known,
Now he exists only in memories.
Death once dropped by for a cup of tea,
Looked at us all from head to toe,
Picked out the healthiest one and walked him out the door,
Touched my arm as he left,
Felt his breath on my neck,
His cold fingers,
His gorgeous face,
Tears ran down my cheeks but I saw glee in his beautiful eyes,
Forever lost the same in my own; I covered it with happy disguise.

Death is a frequent visitor yet he surprises every time,
Makes you praise all those beautiful poems which would never again ever rhyme.

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