She swept in quickly, like a changing breeze,

Like lightning, at night, when it coughs and sneeze,

Like hail when it falls and hits the ground,

So heavy that it lands, and doubly rebounds.

And with her did a storm avail,

The breeze of life, became a gale,

And as our senses sought to assail,

Her tempest rage did more entail.

Was I so young, all this to see?

Or has age tempered time for me?

This day, still conjures misty dread,

A vortex of black, deep in my head.

I roll back the years, unto that day,

And make amends, this time to slay,

My life soon slips far away,

But the truth afore thee, I must finally array.

The box of black now opens its lid,

And I see myself, as once I did,

A boy no more than seven or eight,

And a time of toil, a time of great weight.

The years were dark, those years of dread,

When war and plague fed on the dead,

When those half living sought only to breathe,

And all they would hear is their blood to seethe.

From the victors and vanquished, all turned to dust,

If war did not kill them, then the plague swayed its thrust,

And town, upon town, dwindled in vain,

And all one could hear were weak cries of pain.

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I walked among them, like one bewitched,

Whose youth and vigour, felt no fever’s pitch,

Whose grasp of life, seemed slow and dim,

As those around me, grew ever slim.

And then the breeze, like blessed light,

Dawned on the land, like a beacon in the night.

And with her a lady, of finest dress,

Whose features, like alabaster, were cold to the press.

She walked with me kindly,

I was only a boy,

And I offered her quietly,

My few rags of joy.

So cold were her hands,

It gave me distress,

And a fire I made,

To warm her caress.

She smiled at me sweetly,

As around her I hung,

My coat that was chiefly,

Too small for her slung.

This gift so small,

Would be my salvation,

As I offered her food,

With open invitation.

Null would she take,

Be it great or small,

And yet all around me,

This was but all.

And then she spoke,

Her words like stone,

Weighed me down,

With an audible hone.

My mistress was death,

And all around me was grief,

And I like a thief,

Stole my life from this heath.

‘Am I to die?’

‘As those around,’

‘Or sway like a tree,’

‘On desert’s soft ground.’

‘Is this my fate?’

‘To dine with death,’

‘Then no longer breathe,’

‘Except, in Hades’ depth.’

‘Nay,’ said she, so suddenly,

So much so, so motherly,

‘ ‘tis not to be, what you see,’

‘I will not take, your life, from thee.’

‘This gift you gave,’

‘This grave little gift,’

‘Given from one so bereft,’

‘No heart have I, so to speak,’

‘To steal a life, of one so meek.’

And then she placed her hand on mine,

And both of us began to dine,

I on food, and she on wine,

But most of all, on love so fine.

Cordiality was hard, for her to place,

But I in time did this displace,

And showed her it was no disgrace,

To show her love, with a smiling face.

And time went by, we spoke so much,

That her ice cold hand became warm to touch,

Never had she felt it as such,

The words, the warmth, the loving touch.

And then from far, the sun did shine,

And still we two, remained entwine,

Deep in love and that ways incline,

None could break, this cherished line.

And all around calm arose,

As laughter quenched her sullen pose,

No more the stench of death on nose,

As people calmly, quietly, rose.

And all ways round,

And back again,

There was no sound,

No cry, no pain.

And disbelief, there was no end,

That death and I, became deep friends,

And all did run, to worlds’ own ends,

This message quick, they did but send.

But spite gave way to human rite,

And armies drew, on us to fight,

And march they did, both straight and fast,

Whilst the end, had been, already cast.

She stood before me,

And covered me whole.

Like mothers, the same,

Did vengeance extol.

And in the end all lay in waste,

And those that lived all fled in haste,

But none survived her spiteful chaste,

And all did drink, and death did taste.

And so she took me by the hand,

And led me from this troubled land,

Between great pillars on the strand,

Atlantis, no longer, did life command.

And so it slid, all into the sea,

No more the world, all save me.

And she did cradle the tears I shed,

For the lives all wasted,

For the lives all dead.

And now she waits for me once more,

But this time, life has run its score.

And to her I will finally surrender,

My eternal love, so warm and tender.

Now my son, you finally know,

And to you, I, this secret, bestow.

I loved a fair mistress, that is true,

But Homer, my son,

She still, loves me too.