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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #875759
A poem about death
Death Walks


Death walks on padded feet,
unheard, unseen, but felt.
From door to door,
who is next?
Death whispers in a quiet voice,
barely heard, but felt.
With cold hands, a firm grip,
and a never ending pace.
© Copyright 2004 Deelyte- Chillin' (deelyte at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/875759-Death-Walks