deepundergroundpoetry.com
He comes
A tall figure dressed in black
I see him coming but I turn my back
A tall stick with a blade of grey
I see it's sharp without a Frey
He lifts his hand and points to me
My instant thought is for me to flee
I turn and face him and see his place
I walk towards him with quite grace
He grabs my hand and I go cold
I look at my clock and 12 it tolls
I walk with him into the night
Forever gone out of sight
I see him coming but I turn my back
A tall stick with a blade of grey
I see it's sharp without a Frey
He lifts his hand and points to me
My instant thought is for me to flee
I turn and face him and see his place
I walk towards him with quite grace
He grabs my hand and I go cold
I look at my clock and 12 it tolls
I walk with him into the night
Forever gone out of sight
Published 13th Mar 2014
| Edited 18th Mar 2014
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