Strange friends

In the shadows of the city street, A homeless poet and death meet. His words a melody of despair, As death whispers, "Life isn't fair." With tattered clothes and weary eyes, The poet welcomes death's surprise. No fear, no sorrow in his heart, For death is his long-lost counterpart. They walk together through the night, Sharing stories, their bond so tight. Death listens to the poet's plea, As he longs for eternity to be free. But death shakes his head, so wise, "It's not your time," he softly replies. The poet smiles, his spirit light, Embracing the darkness of the night. For in death's company, he finds peace, A fleeting moment of sweet promise. A poet and death, a strange blend of friends, Bound together until the very ends.