Hello my friend
He whispers in my ear
Your Time has come
Your Soul is mine
I feel his icy hand on my shoulder
I turn to see nothing
He is there
He is in the room with me
Always watching
Always waiting
In the shadows I see him
I can see the reflection from the sickle
The sounds of his robes as he passes
He knows my name
He knows when and how
Yet he never shares
We fear him
He asks not for this privilege
It is merely his job
The blade is always by my throat
He waits for the day I falter
The day I allow the sickle to do its job
Phillip Dodham Cormier
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-reaper-8/
