I felt no cold breath of Death
Nor the Reaper’s skeletal hand.
Yet he greeted me
And I mumbled and tumbled
And found myself on the cold ground
Where all are bound.
Death can command us all.
When he calls man must fall.
He greeted me in jest.
But he will tire of play
And I will find rest
For Death he ends all play.
K Morris - Poet 
Well done, Kevin! I hope you are enjoying a nice weekend! Best wishes, Michael
Thank you, Michael. My weekend is good, and I hope yours is to.
Peace be with you, Kevin!
And also with you, Annette
Yes, he will find us all in time, Kevin.
Well done with this poem. It’s another excellent one.
Thank you, Vivienne. I’m pleased you like my poem, and thank you for the compliment.