He stood before me
The Angel of Death.
Hair as black as the night
Dark wings of a fallen angel
Tall and strong
Skin pale as the moonlight
Marble sculpted face of a God
Deep dark eyes
Terrifyingly beautiful
He puts out his dead hand
“Are you ready? ”
His voice is like silk.
I nod and take his hand
And he kisses me slightly
Finally.
I am at peace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem