An End

A dark bit written between finals

Sorrow filled tears twinkle on a chilled night.

Bitter death sprinkles, they chant of light.

The bowing church steeple softens the bite.

Wandering people, seek no fight.

A beckoning end,

not a soul to mend.

It is time to tend, 

to another blend. 

Author's Note

A spin on a grim reaper's perspective perhaps?

Reviews

[Chebem Ike]

Lovely in its bitter way , hmm the grim reaper