Reaper

by Stephen Watson

The reaper leaned against
The frozen oak tree;
Dying from his icy touch
And counted his daily toll.

A thousand skulls littered
A thirty yard radius;
Extending into the field of corn.
Each one was once a vibrant person.

Before he came;
And touched them.

19-Jan-2013

More By : Stephen Watson

Views: 1524 Comments: 0