The Grim Reaper waits…
The grim reaper lingers.
Standing tall, arms folded agitated.
In black clothed gown
He stands above looking down,
He always wears a sombre frown.
Breathing hastily through his nose
Looking like a serious clown.
He lurks, he waits,
Ready to dispatch your fate.
The door rattles
The teeth chatter like shutters in the wind.
His deep shadows haunt my space,
Maybe he’s on my case!
What does he know? more than I…
Does he truly knock before we die?
© munster 2023