The Dark Visitor His face is a time-piece,
his life is a book
But the pages lie darkened,
for there's no-one to look
At times he was happy,
at times even glad
But now all of his memories,
to a one; they are sad
Yet still he breathes in,
and still he breathes out
As he fights for each breathe,
and death hangs about
He hurts with each movement,
and gets no relief
Still he refuses surrender,
and fights for surcease
Not one person visits
or asks after him
As he struggles on vainly,
in a fight he can't win
Finally a shadow -
begins to encroach
And a hooded dark servant -
prepares his dark coach
A breeze softly rises
There's a scent on the air
Though his eyes do not see,
he knows death is there
His heart starts to race
as his breathe; it turns sour
He knows he'll have passed,
within this; his last hour
The figure moves closer,
and bends to its task
As the old man lies dying,
alone in the dark
With a final defiance,
he raises his fist
Then he dies in his bed,
for no one to miss.
