The children laughed and danced and played with eyes so full of life,
And Death strode into town that day and said “Whose time hath come?”
“Oh! Pick me! I’ve had enough!” some people called with strife,
But Death walked through and passed them by while beating on his drum.
His cape did flow with blackness that could pierce the moonless night,
Enveloping a figure cast from old discarded bone.
A face reflecting back at me a ghastly glow of white,
Shuffled through the crowd to find me standing there alone.
He looked my way as if to say today would be my final day,
I asked him if the tales about the afterlife were true,
He told me there’s no easy way to understand the game we play,
But now I might become among the mad, enlightened few.
We walked into the night with hand in hand,
Our footprints fading deep into the sand.