Reaper

Long is the hour that drags you near.
Echoing bells ringing the deafening truth which cause such tears.
Stone so cold, no wonder they wish for death.
One step not taken as you steal my last breath.
No spring to yield my rebirth as the moss covers my name.
What was flesh and blood is now forgotten as such sacrifices were in utter vain.

Reviews

[John Alexander McFadyen]

A most interesting and spooky rhyming poem giving a feel for death as he/she/'Me Too' approaches.

[AKhaus]

thank you, inspired by a cemetery visit