At the Door
A loud knock came at the door
And perhaps if I had answered,
It would have sounded no more.
But foolishly I let it ring
And left the stranger standing
At the door
It came again, the persistent tap
Of someone knocking on the door
With a temperate rap
Again I left it and ignored it
And left the stranger standing
At the door
When a third time it rang
And at last I heeded the sound
And I opened the door and let it hang
For on my doorstep sat a black-cloaked man
Holding my life in his skeletal hand
At the door
I spoke thus to him, the man
“What brings you to my abode?
I bid you answer if you can.”
Smiled he grimly and answered truly
“I came thrice knocking and you left me
At the door”
As thus he charged me with my crime
I was muted and stood pale
He spoke again; “It is not your time”
And I answered and asked once more
“Why have you come knocking
At the door?”
He stood and threw his cloak away
And his skull-like visage caught the light
He said “I have come to collect the pay.”
I trembled and finally dared to query
“What requital brings you to stand before me
At the door?”
Again he patiently answered me
“You made a bargain and now I collect.
You have an hour, for I have some leniency.
But when that ends, you will see me again.
And I will not be patient, nor will I stand
At the door!”
And the stranger was gone, leaving no trace
That he had ever been there at all.
But I knew that I had seen that face,
And that I had seen it before,
And I didn’t want it there again,
At the door.
Suddenly bitter dread filled my heart
As I remembered the bargain I’d made
And that I must fulfill my part.
Weeping, I called my daughter from bed.
And regretted making a deal with the man
At the door.
I said my goodbyes to my beloved daughter
And waited for the hour to end
I didn’t wish for it to end in slaughter
So I told no one else of the bargain I made
With the stranger who was again knocking
At the door
He knocked and my girl ran to answer
Before I could cry out a warning
The man had seized and taken her
And I was alone in the quiet house
Cursing my life and the man who had once stood
At the door
©Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.
Copyright © Glory Winzer | Year Posted 2015
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