Dance, Quoth Death Poem by Lauma Lapa

Come, dance with me,
Quoth Death,
I will teach thee
This
Will be Easy.

I made him
A cuppa. I
Broke bread for him,
Buttered it, and proffered:
No one should dance hungry.

Come, this is a Waltz,
Quoth Death,
One-two-three, One-two-three, One…
It will be slow
And becoming.

I made him
New shoes. I
Knitted him the socks,
Warm and well-fitting,
No one should dance barefoot.

And this,
Is Quickstep, quoth Death,
Just jump in the pattern I show,
This will be
Easy, ye know.

I made him
Mittens. I used
A herring-bone pattern of green
Wool and gold,
No one should dance
With hands that cold.

Come, dance with me,
Quoth Death.
All your life away,
This will be
Easy, when I
Will teach thee,
Quoth Death.