Death’s Handmaiden

Let bone fingers,

gentler than colder scythe,

close my eyes


eternal sleep


I would seek

Death’s Handmaiden,

dressed in mourning finery,

And plead a softer touch,

no less final for

all its gentleness


For all her smiling

reassuringly in

my final moment,

I would hear

at least

the faint echo of a

woman’s heart


none exists


I would kneel

in abject


to her

gory majesty


And take her hand

in gratitude

for mercy,

though I bleed


No sunset,

just darkness

without stars


I go

and wait for


in the drafty caverns,

the void

of her many- shadowed palace,

in a vast and ebon realm,

disguised as

a humble cottage

in the midst


woods and meadow.


Author: smithaw50

I live in NJ. Concentrating now on a getting a full time writing career started. Glad you could be with me on the journey. Ready? Here we go...

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