Death, to me, is a stranger;

Death, to me, is a stranger;
I know not his whereabouts.
I’ve seen him but haven’t heard -
I know of him but we’ve not met.

He spoke at length with my elder
And convinced him to go.
I got to say good-bye before
He left, but of Death, I don’t know.

He seems so popular among
Celebrities - distant and queer.
With the sickly, too, he throngs -
Too important to come here

Although once, without persistence -
Death did rap upon my door.
I was busy - I did not answer
So he left a calling card.