Reapers Wall

Written to: Fireblossom Friday writing challenge "The Distorted Lens"

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Reapers Wall

Today started crispy cold, but nice, as

weather warnings came on the car speakers.

The grit truck missed a patch of black ice and

slowly my world turned topsy turvey. You

stole my ride with your phosphorescent eyes

in the bright velvet darkness of night, and

I saw my life dance to the ice maidens

tune waved along with her slim finger tips.

A scribe in a white coat spoke in strange tongues,

as a quill wrote in transparent black ink

filling an empty scroll full of weird scribbles.

And all the while the Tappers kept tapping

tappity tap, tappity tap, all night

long under a meridian green moon.

I looked through your hot phosphorescent eyes

when something cold burned against my chest.

Stone by stone up went a charred wall to the

monotonous rhythm of, beep, beep, beep.

At the topping out ball the Tappers skipped

to the frantic swish of the reapers scythe.

But from golden fields with ears of rye corn

came a warm whisper, hang in there my love.

Through snow winters blue and red summer nights

I fought with an electrical maelstrom.

The reaper was grim and seemed to weaken

as the scribes apprentice knocked down the wall.

And there was the green moon on a white screen

as my lightning bolt swords flashed up his scythe.

And soldiers clad in green gathered around

and cheered me on in victorious song.

Now golden fields smelled fresh and soft as silk

as they brushed across my tormented face.

Julian Clarke © Sept' 2017 

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