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I Looked at Death
February 23, 2016
I saw his eyes
And they were dark
There was no light
There was no spark
I saw his face
There was no emotion
There was no sadness
No doubt, no grace
I saw his figure
And he was tall
His scythe was silver
His cloak, a mellow black
And though I saw these things
His figure, his face, his eyes
I still could not stand to help
The feelings that stirred inside
The darkness was welcoming
And though I turned away
Away from the lies
I could still hear him whisper,
"Look not with your eyes"
© Calvin C., Salt Lake City, UT
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