The Rider
The Rider
Slivers of skyline
tree arms of emerald
the waning sunset,time runs out
peach colored archways, lest we forget
Golden grass tall as fences
white birches swaying gently
the howls of a wolf
in the dark of night
Emptiness and fog
go hand in hand
rotting buildings and tumbleweeds
the apocalypse is here!
The rider collects his dues
a silver barrel jutting out
wearing jeans and a tattered coat
with no exceptions,as to the blood on his shoes
He has a malicious tongue
and a roll of smokes
his breath, cold as winter
the eyes bright as the sun
His steed, a glowing ember of red
teeth white like a ghost, tail whipping wild
muscular legs and ginormous head
snorting smoke to which he couldn’t blow
The pale horse of death
limping, on its last leg
drinking water from a creek
as if it were a keg
The land dusty and brown
gods of chariots, fire and brimstone
falling from the sky
mythical creatures with no reason why
He gives no mercy…. Just death
Copyright © James Tuders | Year Posted 2018
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