If Death Came Knocking at Your Door

If Death Came Knocking at Your Door

Death arrived one stormy night,
Upon his steed of firelight.
He hailed in through a puff of smoke,
Fitted in a suit and cloak.

A long, thin nose protruded out,
That flared the more he moved about.
A wispy, stache sat close beneath,
As did a row of large, capped teeth.

Just think if you were in my shoes,
And death came knocking at your door.
What decision would you choose,
Would you leave or answer for?
And if you answer would you dare,
To ask death what he's doing there?

He tipped his hat and softly spoke,
I thought it was some kind of joke.
Where's your carriage at, I scoffed,
To which he laughed, I dropped it off.

His nose bounced high with every shake,
It seemed so fragile, almost fake.
And when he stopped he softly asked,
To get a refill for his flask.

Just think if you were in my shoes,
And death came knocking at your door.
What decision would you choose,
Would you leave or answer for?
And what if after all you think,
Death is there just for a drink?