The Shroud of Death

I wrote this poem for the same college poetry class as my rebellion poem.  We were supposed to write about death and once again I wanted to play around with the rhyme scheme a bit. 

The Shroud of Death 

I don’t know his name or face,
draped in shadows like a shroud.
He wanders both day and night
looking for someone to take to the grave.

I dread the day when he comes for me,
and fear the time when I cease to be.
I, like most, do not want to die young
before my life’s song has yet to be sung.

Yes, I fear the shadow
and the inevitable end that he brings,
the invisible darkness,
the one they call “Death.”

4-17-05