A strange creature stands guard.
His dark hood conceals a face beneath,
no features twitch
only death can speak.

A thin bone finger unfolds
from sleeves of black
pointing with a quiver
towards the crossing,
calling as he laughs.

Bent rotten wood and hanging limbs
create a canopy of haunting trim

My extremities shake violent,
fear suffocates the mind
A voice ever so silent
urges me across the line