This Carpenter

  Hardly does the pitiless dark hunter   Wander around my vicinityThough will come one unfortunate day  Claiming yet one of our ownBut this carpenter and his unique wood craftinessIs yet to polish a mere stool to seduce my sightThat desirously, I shall purchase to please my room Yet he devotes his every muscleBeautifully crafting these breath-taken caskets  One day unfortunately- maybe  Will be my inevitable eternal prisonTo convict my mortal leftoversThis one carpenter’s shop is sad with casketsCaskets, caskets, and its grim resemblanceNo apprentices Once I was passing by and courteously greetedGood morning Mr. Carpenter,How is the casket market?He looked with a woman’s eyesStraining and piercing deep into mineAnd in a humble mode, he replied:My dear young fellow, when the hunter claims youThere my market will boom.         I smelt the hostile odour of woe,        Oozing from his breath        So I carried myself away, summed        Resisting the subtractions “What a casket carpenter?” I hummedAnd knew his glorious illusions if not disillusionsWill one day bring to our door steps              An uninvitedA rather inevitable guest