Death At The Door Poem by Kaitlyn Henning
Death At The Door
The feel of your cold, harsh breath
The brush of your pale, thin hand
I sense you coming,
I feel you near.
The sight of your shimmering slanted blade.
The sound of your footsteps, too light to tell if you’re really there
Death at the door, and I am ready.
Kaitlyn Mae Henning
This my favie of yours...tis fabba fab fab. I love 'cold harsh breath'! I can just feeeel that in my bones...plus I like things I can randomly associate with other things, and this makes me think of 'Don't Fear the Reaper' and a book called Keturah and Lord Death, so basically...this poem is made of WIN! ! ! ! ! ! !
Kaitlyn, I would just as soon put off that visit for a long time! Interesting poem. Best Wishes, Marilyn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
5/4/2024 4:01:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The way you use 'breath' in the first line and 'brush' in the second helps them flow coheasively. Puuuuur-fect.: ] This poem is full of suspense and the emotion is intense. I love the last line.