The Grim Reaper
If you must
come, as come you must,
Don’t come
in winter and awake
The fat cat
dozing by the fire.
And don’t
appear in fertile spring
When birds
begin to sing of love
Above new
shoots of verdant grass.
Summer’s not
the time to call
And is the
least good time of all,
When nights
are light, and loved ones
Bright with
hope, can’t cope with death.
Autumn might
just be OK,
Unless I’m
feeling fine and well
Then it
would be capricious
And
suspicious if you call
When all of
life’s still full of fun.
So, when all
is said, and all is done,
Perhaps it’s
best you do not come,
At least for
many seasons still,
Until my
will to live is spent
And I can
welcome you with song.
© James
Rainsford 2013
Note to readers: As age increases, so too, do thoughts of my own mortality.
Your views are always welcome and I'll respond to all who vist here and leave a comment. Kind regards, James.
