Grim Reaper

Death, I have experienced not. But of it I have stolen, a clear glimpse As it whisked passed me So plain In grim faces with eyes deeply stained Evident through streams Flowing, by the nose, separated. Ooh! I recognise death: Dried tongue with bittersweet taste, Deep into the night, the day, awoken Taker of all, leaver of none, I realise who death is, A promise of roses in the middle of the desert, A defiant character. A timely guest Dogged, deviant and Sadistic. leaves at the service of a peculiar excitement I am it's host, expectant, But it has, in oft, teased. I have shared space with death, A mindful personality.