20
Mon, Aug

Your Poetry
Typography

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Let me tell you a little story.

Those of you who are old enough and lived in Britain during the 50's and 60's may remember a TV & Radio Program called 'Listen with Mother'. A programme for little ones. It began...

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...

Once upon a time, there was a man who was very old.

He had lived a long and interesting life and had been lucky enough to travel right around the world. He had seen the beginning of television. He had seen the first men on the moon. He had seen the beginning of the European Union and the end of the USSR. He had been married and had lots of children and grandchildren. He had businesses, and was very rich.

Now he was old and he knew that his time to depart this world was near.

As he lay on his bed one night, he noticed a shadowy figure at the end of his bed. "Who are you, and how did you get into my room?" He demanded.

"I am an Angel" said the figure. "An Angel? Rubbish!! I don't believe in such things!" He shouted.

"I know, but you will soon" said the Angel, gently gliding towards him. "Why will I?" demanded the old man.

"Because I am the Angel of Death" said the Angel quietly, as he guided the man to the fires of Hell.

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