The night was long and drawing to an end,

The orchestra tuned up for the last waltz.

I knew, this was not the time to pretend

That this would turn into bittersweet schmaltz.

I reached out for your hand, wanted to ask

You to dance this last waltz slowly with me,

But He appeared, wearing a hood and mask,

N’ you turned and waltzed with him obligingly.

I felt an ice-cold hand gripping my heart,

I wanted to stop you, watching with dread;

I did not wish the two of us to part,

Wanted to scream, but in a daze instead,

Watched with sinking heart and abated breath,

As you danced that waltz on the arms of Death.

© P. J. Oszmann (2007)