I met a lady earlier on today,
She said her name was death,
Her eyes were blue, her hair, light grey,
Her voice sweet, with minty breath.
She walked with me along my path,
Made sure I did not stray,
And when I waned to come back to earth,
She pleaded me to stay.
Her meals were lovely I must say,
She made a divine spot of tea,
So I told her that one fine day,
She must come and dine with me.
She sighed and sipped her wine,
A smile upon her face,
Said with all men she must dine,
At a chosen time and place.
Then, in the same manner as she came,
The lady was up and gone,
Leaving me, a man slightly less sane,
With a soul slightly more torn.
Now I walk this path of mine alone,
Longing for the smell of minty breath,
For the scent of that musky cologne,
For my final meal with the lady, death.