Life, and Death
It was a night, of blistering cold, when the stranger made his appearance.
A night of perilous, and damning storms, and a dark, and deathly appearance.
He wore a cloak, of midnight black, and a pointed hood, of cotton.
The place which where the face should be, had simply been forgotten.
An atmosphere, so cold and dark, swallowed and followed this figure.
As the stranger passed, floating on skies, making the near few shiver.
People nearby, would watch, and cry, as the stranger, carried on forth.
As if this 'person', was on a mission, to find something of their worth.
The people around, knew straight away, on who this stranger was.
For he was Death, who'd come to collect, another families loss.
The families loss, was a gift to Death, who'd admire his gifts, so great.
For Life had given Death his gift, by sealing a dooming fate.
Death and Life, had worked together, for many golden moons.
Life would create, and bring up their gifts, to settle in graves with runes.
Death would come, to visit the grave, of Life's most perfect gift.
He'd take them up, in caring arms, as to heavens above, they'd lift.
Death and Life, are life long friends, as life will supply whoever,
And whatever there may be at the time, and Death will keep them forever.
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