if indeed death knocks,
i cannot answer the door.
there are logs to split,
and bricks to lay....
a fire to tend,
and flowers to plant.
broken wings to heal,
centipedes to liberate....
small things to do,
small words to speak...
for i am not yet done with living,
and living's not done with me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the feel and direction of this one Eric... DON'T answer that door! You've much yet to write...