For Whom the Bell Tolls

When Death comes knocking at your door Rail,resist or recoil at her call The inevitable and rarely welcome visitor To Her succumb must we all To Her cold and chilling embrace When with Her we come face to face Cold comfort in being clasped To Her icy bosom at last. Larger than life is this devil, No hail fellow well met Before Her will we all shrivel As She rolls Her dice ,Her net, Until up comes our number When we must succumb to Her With Her shears She readily clips And our life threads She swiftly snips Sardonic yet unsatisfied with Her store She hies off with Her earthly winnings Insatiably in search of ever more Desperate to end another innings Knowing only full well That Her cup will never be at full swell Nor capture the essence Of any mortal presence.