Cobblestone Path
I met him the other day
Passed by on the cobblestone
Between the graves
Though he dare not look up
I could hear the sobs
As wet drops fell
His draped black cloak
Tattered and flowing
Billowing fog in the cemetery
Chills ran down my spine
Yet his sadness warmed me
No joy came in this profession
My sky blue eyes
Connected with his sockets
Life in lifelessness
Embracing the poor soul
Feeling his scythe
Pressed upon my back
I knew no fear
Only the truth
As we walked
Down that cobblestone path
Copyright © Jillian Veitenheimer | Year Posted 2012
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