Bright flashing eyes, a blush upon her cheek,

this vision that impales me every day,

and ties my tongue, yet nothing I could say

would set me free when she begins to speak.

The sound of her, the scent of her, unique;

the way she moves a classical ballet,

and all the world around her seems so grey

while she is vivid, coloured with mystique.

How is it that she weave...

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Cronos (The Reaper)

I wait round corners where the air is still,
in darkened alleys wet with winter snow,
the places only fools and dreamers go.
You will not see me, but will feel my chill
on exposed places where the ice will spill
and with each prickle you will surely know
that, soon, the ancient blizzard wind will blow
and bring the reaper with it for the kill.
For I am called from so...

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