Sundown, blissfully bleak,
Hidden 'neath dark gown, trembling at the knees, weak,
Cracked skin fractures an old familiar face,
Familiarly unknown, belongs out of place,
Towering yet fleeting, accompanied yet forlorn,
Eyes darkened, feasting -- gazing the night torn.
A Figure ever so archaic, old but never aged,
The Grey in a coloured mosaic, perfectly planned but never staged.
Lord of Life's end, falters in robes grim,
Where it is due he must wend, brightest of stars yet lightless, dim..
Beware for old Death nears soon past,
Take care for the next to fall be the Reaper's last.
What is to happen now?
All lights on earth dim for the final bow...
Death has died!
Impossibly succumbed to master time,
Broken is now the repeating stride,
Bells of departure cheerlessly chime.
A corridor of flowers leads the way out,
Life soon follows, ever so devout.
A petal here..
A petal there..
A petal where soon..
It will be nowhere.