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.