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At my door Death stood
With scythe in his hand
“Come,” he breathed,
“the other side awaits thee.”

Terrified I arose
Though I did not want
Yet follow I must
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2018
About this poem:
Word count: 30

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Comments (5)

Thumb your nose at him and slam the door on his face!

Kathy wave
Thank you Kathy ... this sounds like good advice tongue

laugh laugh
Sounds so the grim reaper....
Thank you Yankee4you ... there is something grim about the reaper alright

Hi Steve .......good to see you back mate ..........interesting write bud ......I am with GP on this one ......Regards NUcool
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on Dec 2018
Last Viewed: 7 hrs ago
Last Commented: Feb 2019

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