Waiting For Me

From the top of the blizzard
with buzzards ablaze,
the reaper stands watching,

waiting for skin to drop
or lungs to fall

waiting for the right moment
to steal fingers imprinted on
the Universe,
hearts beating on the sun,
and moons kissing under the tender lights of love.

He stands waiting, in every dream I dream, where your hands are
more than a memory,
waiting for me.