Sunday, November 06, 2011

The Grimacing Reaper


Upon the death of my friend, Sambo.



Death hangs onto my shoulder,
Like a younger sibling.
He has been with me forever.
I cannot shake him,
Although, so far, he has let me be.
He has scythed many family and friends,
But why has he not harvested me?
Perhaps he has a sense of humor …

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