The angel of death,
lurked around me
today,
I smelled her chilly
breath,
her face hidden away.
I chanced to meet her,
briefly, before,
upon a rain slicked
mountain road,
silently along the
ocean floor,
as dancing bennies or
beauties sped.
Today. . . beckoning,
come,
quiet as the
grave,
touching her cool
cloak,
raven wings, almost,
embrace.
To dance with the
shroud of sleep,
dangerously. . .
briefly,
to skim breathlessly,
in the dark.
To taste her restful
promise.
But. . . I, quietly
sad, alone,
responding, in
retreat.
as she knew someday
soon,
her mission
too
complete.
