The Grim Reaper
He's watched babies grow old
Ever since a good many centuries ago
Though you have never been told.
Artfully he embroiders a journey to go.
Go! Go to father and mother's whisper airborne.
Forgo! Forgo all those ethereal satins
Having shackled you like the cursed thorn
And bewitched you the robins into nasty ravens.
He never means to be grim,
As of the mask he never can rid.
Beholding babies nip selves in the bud,
Serious the Reaper better stay.
Benign as a grandpa he's been,
Rocking the cradle where life began.
And the lullaby he chants never fades away:
"Like the dust you come
And like the rust you go.
Like the yellowed grass you decay,
And like a gardener I reap you away."
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PS.
Who is the Grim Reaper?
Click the link below and you'll have a better idea.
http://theblacksentinel.files.wordpress.com/2007/08/grim-reaper.jpg
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