A tale told
round a burning fire
of times when the Reaper
walked amongst men and fields.
He silently stalked
men of daring do
walking on the wild side
never a fear.
Men who played the blades
with more lives than a cat
always landing on their feet;
it was them he hated
as they slipped through his grasp.
Each danced with a sword
while the Reaper stood near
his scythe held ready
his hourglass turned.
He waited for one to die.
The next.
The next.
Tempt not the Reaper
for a calling he will come
at a time most unseen
and the one that last run
will finally be freed.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
June 2/18
The Wonderful and Wacky World of One Single Mom 