Sta.sh
Do I have a reason to fear Death?
He is kind and he's quiet,
He listens as well;
He'll drive you to Heaven,
He'll cart you to Hell.
His vest is embroidered
With little white curls
He puts flowers in His pockets
Which He gives to the girls.
He likes to eat chocolate,
(Or so I've heard)
And He keeps in a cage
a little pet bird.
His skeletal horses
Always look proper;
His wine is uncorked
and untouched by the stopper.
His shoes are so polished
You can see yourself in them,
His laces are always tied
Just below His pant hem.
His bones are quite sturdy
And never look brittle;
In fact, I have heard
He quite likes to whittle.
He makes little horses
And little toy men
Which He gives to young patrons
And smaller children.
He tells jokes on occasion,
But He's always polite;
His laugh is infectious
and His chatter is light.
He sweet-talks the ladies
and jokes with the men;
He makes your time worth it,
He won't see you again.
His hat is quite tall
and His suit's always pressed;
And He'll try for your laughter
if you seem distressed.
But don't be so quick
To believe what I've told
'Bout His sharp-polished shoes
And His fashion quite old
Or his boney horses
And his little bird pet
I'm really not sure, 'cause I haven't died yet.
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love 4
4
joy 6
6
wow 0
0
mad 0
0
sad 0
0
fear 0
0
neutral 0
0
~ivimann
Nov 12, 2012
