I saw her sitting there
In a small round chair
Locks made of gold
Just like her soul

She looked up at me
But surely couldn't see
For to all I'm invisible
But she was truly incredible

A voice like a whisper
"Who are you mister?"
I flashed a small smile
And looked at the child

"It matters not who I am
My sweet little lamb
Your time has run out
No need to pout"

Slowly she started to stand
And reached for my hand
She wasn't a weeper
Just a girl with the Grim Reaper