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.