Death Comes

I stand here on the coldest night;
as winters frost drifts slowly in.
The hue of the sky drizzled with light
swirled over where I once had been.
I overheard them speak again;
o’er my research I afixed my gaze.
In a crowded room they spoke o’ the end;
foreshadowing the end of days.
They sized me up like a slab of meat;
no doubt that they had known at once.
My satisfaction; honey sweet,
as they began to turn and run.
My deep-gray robes began to sway
as step by step I did approach.
Their lungs tightened; my sickle raised
and without pause I took them both.
So once again on a lifeless night,
Death shows his face to take a life.
©2013 Alex Hicks

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