Rodaan Al Galidi’s Miracle Egg

Death called, yesterday, and said:
‘I love your talent and want to make your acquintance.’
I said that I’d rather send him one of my books,
but he said: ‘I don’t mean your talent with words,
but with painting.
Many times I came too close.
Then you thought I was a tree
and painted me with the colors of your life.’
Death came, yesterday, into my ear,
and left me through this poem.