Written for Sherri Gibson's Coloring The World Contest using her title prompt. |
Author's note: I know the pain and sorrow of death, but I chose to write this with a touch of humor for the inevitable. There is too much sadness in the world. WHEN DEATH CALLS When Death calls, I hope I'm not at home; I hope he gives up and leaves me alone! I'm not ready yet, and I don't have the gall to answer, when Death makes his call. I love the sunlight, I love the blue sky, Death, I'm not about to give up and die! There's so much to do before I lay down my poor old tired body under the ground. I'll turn up the music so I don't hear a knock, If he opens his mouth, I'll stuff it with a sock! There's many good people who want me alive, so I will do my darndest to try and survive! I don't want to think of my children in tears, although they think that I'm way up in years. Seventy-two should be a good year full of fun, I'm thinking of the things I still haven't done. If by some rare chance I do open the door, if Death stands smirking, with me on the floor; I'll figure a way to get out of that great plight, and tell him "Sorry, I can't go out tonight!" There's no Welcome Mat outside my home, a sure sign that I want to be left alone! So, Death, take a hike and forget about me, I'm happy, I'm here and I want to stay free! Countrymom 2/4/08 |