He rides the horse of midnight,
Bounding through the dark, unseen.
With scythe in hand, and hooded cloak,
He’s something of a dream.
A disillusioned fantasy,
To nightmare corner swept,
But then his presence beckons,
While the angels shrank and wept.
Withdrawing to the background,
Fervor fades from thee,
Leaving only Lonely Horseman,
Who wants thy company.
He will not ask, but shall receive,
This gift thy pray to keep,
A simple touch upon your cheek,
Shall tumble you to sleep.
Lying on a bed of petals,
Romantic in his essence,
A peaceful burst of brilliance,
Sweet glow is evanescent.
Then on he moves from flowered ground,
To chase the next homestead,
Perched on the horse of midnight,
Bringing dreams upon the dead.

If you enjoyed this, check out these other great poems from LG Rogers.

Seventeen Steps Below

The Low Spirit

Shadows of Things to Stay