The Crier Poem by Talia Anziliero

In the dead of the night I heard a tap and a call,
She was homeless, no memory at all.
Her face was young but filled with misery,
The lines on her face bore tales of terror,
But I did not care; she had come to me in her hour of need,
“I shall hold you forever, ” Whispered I to the eternal night.

My love turned to fear as I realized that THIS was no child,
But a dealer, a crook, a swindler of money with a rusty fishing hook.
The last thing a saw was a flash from that hook,
Now I drift forever in this little nook.
Death shall come fair and death shall come quick