The Grim

In Spring
I sat me down to eat
And eat a little more,
But then my vittles withered,
And a knock came to my door.
Shuddering, I dropped my fork
And opened my door in.
There waning on my doorstep
Was the shadow of the Grim.
Breathing in, the Grim did say,
“Come now to meet your end.”
“I cannot die,” I said. I said.
“I cannot die,” I said.

In Summer
I lay me down to sleep,
To rest my aching head.
But as I yawned, I found that he
Was sitting on the bed.
The Grim stretched his bony fingers
And they crackled in the dust,
Then downward went his skinless thumb,
A symbol of disgust.
Breathing out, the Grim did say,
“Come now to meet your end.”
“I cannot die,” I said. I said.
“I cannot die,” I said.

In Autumn
I took me up to dance
For I heard the piper’s call.
In spinning I discovered I
Could keep away the Fall.
Then another met the dance floor,
And I spun a while with him,
But when I felt his hand I knew
My partner was the Grim.
And leaning in he said again,
“Come now to meet your end.”
“I cannot die,” I said. I said.
“I cannot die,” I said.

In Winter
I slowed me to a stop,
And stopping found I him,
An ink stain in a snow drift,
The one and only Grim.
There he took a wheezing breath
And exhaled naught but flame.
Through the white his shoulders slumped
When I let breath his name.
And breathing flame in snow he said,
“Hast thou no fear of death?”
“I cannot die,” I said. I said.
“For I have yet to live.”

Written sometime during my college years. I want to say 2003-2004(?). This piece is one of the few examples I have of spontaneous inspiration. I got the idea suddenly and scribbled it all down in about 30 minutes, in its complete form, making only minor tweaks later. Definitely see my younger self in this!

comedy, medium, myth, fantasy, rhyming, story, short story