Tis But Death Poem by Eric Cockrell
Tis But Death
the stranger arrives,
his voice almost remembered,
his smell like rain,
and something else.
his soft insistent knock
rings like a bell,
his hand on the knob...
can you hear?
the sound of his footfall....
tis but death come knocking...
he brings no baggage.
will you open the door?
with a nod to Edgar Allan Poe, for inspiration, on this one!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/23/2024 9:01:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Spooky. Really like this. Death comes for us all in the end.