A howling wind does wake my sleep.
Then my ears do hear a banshee weep.
A chilling coldness makes my soul shiver.
I see the grim reaper and bad news he does deliver.
I lie in bed cold and shocked.
My heart ticked but never tocked.
I found it hard to inhale air.
Into the face of death my eyes did stare.
The howling wind did loudly roar.
Then lights out and i was no more.
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Comments1
Not a bad way to go, and certainly not a bad poem, Wallace. Good write!
Thank you Louis.
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