Grim Reaper

The Reaper, with hourglass and hoar locks,
Sees me dreaming of witches and warlocks,
Of doing and fighting,
Of loving, of writing,
Taps my shoulder and says “I’m from Porlock’s.”
Robin Helweg-Larsen

If you have any comments on this poem, Robin Helweg-Larsen would be pleased to hear them.

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