The Reaper
From the pain of our sorrow
And the tears that we shed
Death is present in every tomorrow
His scythe always ready, for the grim task ahead
Through the graveyard he strolls
Collecting the harvest of fallen souls
Never tiring of what he reaps
He always plays for keeps
The crop is sure in any season, no need to sow
For the seeds of life must grow
He's the great equalizer we know
And a most formidable foe!
-
4-1-18
Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2018
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