a love song for Neil Gaiman's darling DeeDee

~
If Death were dressed in leathers
And had a punk-rock do,
And spoke with Dubliner’s background,
Making a most soothing sound,
And wore the equal of combat shoes,
And by tradition was unbound.
Who did her chore with cheery ease
Without so much as an ”If you please,”
Instead with a “Chum, it’s the end of the line,”
With a pat on the back and a grace so fine,
How would you see Death in your mind?

Lips as red as blood
Skin as white as snow
Hair as black as night
When the storm winds blow.

Death would not be a thing to fear,
I Dream of Death as Someone Dear.
~