Encounter with Death

No shadows danced around my campfire

No candles were lit, no celestial choir

Trumpets were silent as a lonely grave

Drums muffled the march of the brave

I stood staring at the pallor of your face

There was no malevolence, there was no grace

Only hunger to consume my wretched soul

My breath utterly under your sweet control

You whispered, you moaned softly in my ear

In a soft kiss while you plunged your spear

Into my heart mocking my labored breath

You said with triumph: My name is Death

Max O’Reilly