The Woman In Black.

 

The woman in black,

Has no smile.

She is cold as ice,

As she watches time

Passing by.

With impassive eyes,

And high cheek bones,

She checks her watch,

An old fashioned quartz,

With a silver frame

And gold hands.

She double checks the time

With piercing black eyes.

The woman in black,

Steps forward,

One step at a time,

Adjusting her veil,

As she reaches down

And pulls the soul,

Shining and glowing,

Waiting to leave,

To push,

To find a way,

Out of the body.

She twirls it

With a graceful hand,

Gently pushing it,

Into the glass jar.

She checks her watch,

With knowing eyes.

One more death,

One more soul,

She adds to the cloud.

Her heart is still,

Without an emotion,

Waiting again,

For the next time

The next soul,

That’s life has ended.

She walks the world,

Her dress,

Of cobwebs and lace,

Drags along the ground,

Catching dead twigs,

And fallen autumn leaves.

The woman in black,

Checks her watch,

With cold eyes.

Her job never ended,

One after the other,

She collected the souls,

Put them in the glass,

Until the moment

She gave them to the Lady of Time.

The Lady would thank,

The woman in black,

As she returned the souls to time,

So that they could live again,

Be collected again,

By the woman in black,

In a never ending cycle,

That is known as life.

She’s not a heartless woman,

She just has no soul,

Nor even a beginning that she can remember,

Because she is a creation,

Like the Lady of Time,

To live in an endless cycle,

Constantly gathering souls,

And preparing them for the next life.

She is the woman in black,

Or as she is better known,

The Lady of Death.

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7 thoughts on “The Woman In Black.

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