By Linda Robertson Somers

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.