The Old man’s visitor

I once knew a man
Who was good and nice as one could be
A friendly ear when trouble comes
A sagely advice from time to time

One night death knocked at his door
The man offered death a seat
“Dear Death” he said,
“tarry a little for the night is cold
and a cup of tea would do a soul a world of good”

So death sat by the fire and sipped on freshly brewed tea
while the man told tales from his past
Comfort soon made death drowsy
And while he fought to stay awake
The man grabbed him by the throat

“What do you want of me?”, asked death,
“For you know I cannot die.
But the tea was good and the tales were better
So I will give you a chance to change my mind”

So the man told death tales of lost love and regret,
of lost chances never to be regained
So death patted the man on the head and said,
“Not today, I will visit the old crow down the road,
See that you set your affairs in order,
for you know not when next I will come.”

So the man found love and settled his past debts
and was as happy as a man can be in this world of ours.

Many years passed and death would from time to time drop by,
And bid the man good health,
And sometimes stay for a cup of freshly brewed tea.
For death had grown fond of him.
He was one of the very few who feared not death
deep in his heart where truths hide.

One cold and blustery night,
while lightening rent the skies
and thunder clapped the ears of frightened tots
Death came knocking at the door
The old man opened to find death standing there
with cap in hand and head slightly bowed
“My old friend”, the old man said.
“I am frail and slightly bent,
but who am I to complain?
I have lived and enjoyed life.
The night is cold and wet,
won’t you tarry a little and have a cup of tea?”

So death sat again by the fire, in a comfortable chair and holding a cup of tea.
While the old man told tales from a life lived to the full
Death was soon asleep, and the old man watched his weary brow
and let him alone till it was almost dawn
Then he shook death awake and bid him rise
“It’s almost dawn.
Let us leave before the house awakes,
it is better that way, and we have a journey to make.”

So death bid the old man rest a while.
And soon he was in peaceful repose.
And with his hand on the old man’s shoulder,
death opened the door and whispered with respect
“After you my old friend.”

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