I love how you weave a tale.
“When Death stopped by for coffee” is probably the best first line I have ever read. So nonchalant…yet so intriguing.
“yet spoke he not a whisper” my favorite single line. :emoticon:
“Then Death reached for his napkin
And dabbed his ashen lips
His face was like a tombstone
Beneath a cold eclipse”
This makes me shudder. I love this stanza.
The story has a beginning, a middle, and an end….flowed smooth as silk, in your trademark style of meter and rhyme. I love it, love it.
“From sweeping golden wheat fields
To tender sun-kissed glades”
In the middle of the darkness…there is light and beauty.
Just wonderful Fred.