Graveyards

byshoeslayer©

On a cold winter night,
when the moon was bright,
you really could hear the wind moan
And over a short distance, down by the graveyard,
came the sound of a horrible groan.


I walked toward the knoll
as the air became still,
a feeling of forbode in my soul.
The clouds covered the moon
giving the appearance of doom,
an I wished right now I was home.

Fifty feet away was a figure in black
an my worries were now a lot deeper,
for the skull was ensconced in a shroud of black
Oh Gawd, it's the Grim Reaper.

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