Sleepy Little Reaper:

The clock chimed midnight, a discordant clang, But the moon refused to wane. A field of sunflowers stretched out, vast and strange. Where a sleepy little reaper snored beneath a golden rain. The reaper stirred, his bony fingers clutching a scythe of shimmering light. Confused by the sunflowers' endless height. Their golden faces turned in silent fright At the moon, a watchful, unyielding sight. A crow landed on the reaper's shoulder, its obsidian eyes gleaming with a knowing stare. It cawed once, a harsh sound that shattered the air. The sunflowers trembled, their golden faces flickering with despair. As if a shadow passed through the moonlit lair. The reaper's grip tightened on the scythe of gleaming bone. Perhaps these sunflowers weren't ordinary, all alone.