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Rated: E · Poetry · Gothic · #2193429
What happens in a garden might surprise you.
Marble figures, were standing in a pose for all eternity.
Some of them had the afternoon rain's dampness still drying
gradually as the sun was fading away.
A hooded figure floated past each one.
He turned and nodded to the group.
He raised his right hand and
slowly pointed a scythe to the garden of roses.
Each path was covered with slightly fragrant petals.
The figures, now in human form, wore a mask for disguise.
They moved quietly to make a circle
and finally began to dance around a fountain
with water in it that was as red as wine.
At midnight, a low dark cloud moved in front of a full moon.
The former statues all turned their heads and froze
in a position to look at the possessor of their souls.
He slowly lowered his hood to reveal his skeletal face.
The leader was none other than the Grim Reaper.
Tonight he was going to determine
the fate of someone's unfortunate soul.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2193429