Reap What’s Sown

Finally Death… we meet
As a child I felt your presence,
Your gaze from afar.
I once caught a glimpse of you
As you stood at the wood line at dusk.
The setting sun reveled your face to me.
The moment our eyes met
a fear embraced me I’ve yet to shake….
I still harbor the chill
From your breath on my neck.
I sometimes smell the blood from your sickle’s blade
as you pass me in the night.

-Adam J. Steele