spending time alone- afraid- pondering decisions made
the reaper walks- the sinners moan- collecting dues before the dawn
his boney finger-taps his list-he reaches out-to place his kiss
the breath of death-is on the lips
awaken by a silent scream-welcome to the reaper’s dream
he slowly turns-his hooded head-his eyes are empty-cold and dead
he scrolls his list-to find my name-I tremble now-in fear and shame
what would I give to be acquitted-for all the sins-I have committed
moving slowly, his sickle raised-the walking dead-the waking grave
he comes to me-with deaths embrace-to place his kiss upon my face
the hounds of hell now howl and scream-and rip me from my life serene
and take me to the-reaper’s dream-not life or death but in between