Je Touché Moi

by | Jan 1, 2006 | Poetry | 0 comments

Death passed me by,
but he touched my soul.

While his scythe of fiery lead,
cut a swathe through the pre-morn light.

Bony fingers plucked holes in mortal flesh.
To quench the reaper’s thirst.

He passed me by,
this time.


Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *