Angel of Death - Contest
The lighting, it was over-bright,
When Death's Angel came to our door.
Drifting, like a kite without sight,
The lighting, it was over-bright.
A most terrifying twelfth night;
Breaking, like the waves to the shore.
The lighting, it was over-bright
When Death's Angel came to our door.
Copyright © R.A. Marschall | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment