Death

By Linda Robertson Somers

Photo by Ludvig Hedenborg on Pexels.com

Death came to me in the still of night, and took me by the hand.

He said come with me my child to a far more peaceful land.

He wore a velvet cloak of the deep and darkest black,

And with him was a magic sack that he carried ‘cross his back.

When I inquired of him as to what the contents might be;

He said it was the souls of men who’d died from the beginning through eternity.

He touched my lips three times with his and pulled me from my bed.

He said I had no need to fear for soon I would be dead.

He took my hand and off we flew

thru walls and trees and morning dew.

I saw a house upon a hill

with dungeons dark and rooms to fill.

There was a game laid out to play,

and I knew I wouldn’t walk away.

In the corner were the bones

in their forever red rock homes.

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