Mr. Death came knocking at my door,

A light tap, tap, tap upon my sanctuary’s entrance—

‘Sir,’ said I, ‘do announce the purpose of your visit,

For ‘tis late in the evening,’

‘Twas midnight, you see—

And I was in naught a disposition for visitors.

‘’Tis Death, Madam,’ said he,

‘And I have come for a stroll through the town—

The distant pounding of your heart caught my attention.

I have come by to stop the loud noises—

The one that disturbs the Ville.’

I was pleased beyond imagination

That Mr. Death thought me worthy of his attention—

The door was swung open,

A man of handsome features and finery stood,

Back erect with his hat within his grip.

‘Mr. Death,’ said I, ‘so light was your knocking—

If you had come for me, tell me this:

Why be polite and rap gently upon the entrance?’

To this he had an answer,

A sensible one at that.

‘Reminiscing  the ol’ times—

You let pass others ‘fore yourself.

Methinks the courtesy shall be returned,’

A bow to me he gave, reaching out a hand for me to take ahold.

‘The Wicca Three-fold, an important lesson for us all—‘

As my hand touched his skin,

The beat of my heorte accelerated then slowed to a sudden stop—

Breath came peaceful as a light Summer breeze,

And the kiss of an angel upon my brow—

Mr. Death came for me, and I had followed him to Heaven.