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Death's Knocking At The Door
‘Twas somewhere ‘tween the eve and light,
when darkness cloaked the mid of night,
and tortured dreams bore dismal fright,
a ghostly form came knocking.
It called out once and then once more,
‘twas death that beckoned at the door,
to shaking bones chilled to the core,
the reaper hissed a warning.
“You’ve lived a life of sin and greed,
done fellow man but little need,
you’ll pay the fatal price, indeed”,
he swore an oath proclaiming.
“You’ve but one night then I’ll return,
to claim your soul”, his aspect stern,
those fated words held grave concern,
his prophesy, alarming.
A muddled mind confused with dream,
not quite awake, still in between,
choked back one silent stifled scream,
his solemn covenant shocking.
With but one night to make amends,
and bid goodbye to kin and friends,
then pray this wretched soul ascends,
scant time on earth is waning.
So little time to change my gait,
repair torn fences, twisting fate,
I’ve sought forgiveness far too late,
and sense my soul descending.
Would charity insure its’ rise,
belated kindness immunize,
and save me from assured demise,
be quick, the daylight’s wasting.
Though nearly dusk, I’ll ne’er relent,
but surely promise to repent,
and save my soul from hells’ torment,
to God I’ll beg, imploring.
‘Tis somewhere now, ‘tween eve and light,
and gripped by tortured dreams of fright,
I wait the reaper ‘midst the night,
for death to come a-knocking.
