The Plainsman

A poem about Death to the rescue.

From The Chronicles of Death

The Plainsman

There is this place
he knows it well,
where he can rest
for just a spell.

It's a barren plain
he travels through,
devoid of greed
but not for you.

The Plainsman comes
he's growing near;
He wants you next
you'll know the fear.

He's come for you
in cloak of black
to take your soul;
not give it back.

He once was here
yes, once before;
took someone else,
forever more.