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Jun 2014
i was sleeping sweetly
till i heard strange sound
trumpets of some deadly thing approaching
a november cold wind in her eye
she walked a shadowy figurine on storm wracked road
as she walked slow and deliberate dressed all in black
she held a dozen bones of a bird that flew
she held a dozen bones of a man that ran
none escape her hand
not in noonday sun
or riding by the fog bound moon in the night
you can find her stirring pestilence on cookfire
along the river road
with the mother of all decay for company
she asked me in a frail voice
what is it that you see...what darkness binds me
i said all manner of beast crawls your pale skin
all manner of shadow calls your heart home
i said you are a walking open grave
she smiled and brushed cold finger on my lip
promise of a deep kiss
that made my very soul shudder
that made me howl in heart deep terrors
fled that dark dream with its tastes of death
fled here to noon day sun
long as i keep the sun overhead
maybe ill see her comin and run
(why is death always cast as a man?)
mark john junor
Written by
mark john junor  59/M
(59/M)   
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