Aurora

Death listens not to any pleas.

Smoke fingers race after the road,
White waves lift from the Highland Hills,
The black wheels slide upon the ice.
A banshee screaming in the night,
A mournful howl ripped from her throat.
Death glides solemnly through the gray.

Hot metal steams in the chilled air,
Fire liquid spilled from the cup,
Raven hair tangled like the car.
She gazes up at his dark cloak.
Gurgling, she tries to tell him
Exactly why she cannot go.

Death listens not to any pleas.