He’ll tickle your ankle, take your hair
you try to sit and he pulls your chair
tighten your veins, shorten your breath
picking where you fray till your death.
as depressed as a toothless beaver
proud as a control freak at all his leavers
regretful as the atheist at the pearly gates
gleeful as the reaper when the airbag inflates.
The reaper came soaring from a tree
I worried he had come down for me
my heart was lighter and more free
he said he was just late for his tea.
Death he came and sidled up next to me
no eyes under his hood and lipless teeth
his scythe it glistened in the evening sun
It began a tremble down deep in my tum
my fear gathered my heart almost stopped
he said “Nice weather” then off he popped.
Even if I knew when death was arriving, no cake for him.
Don’t worry about the next trip
you sail upon an immortal ship
all the way to unknown shore
I’m quite looking forward
to what’s in store.