to say goodbye, say hello

This is a poem I wrote a while ago (6 months?) and has been sitting on scrap paper because I didn't really know if I was happy with it... but now we are moving and it seemed wrong to throw it away so here goes:

"What is it, Gran?"

I said, as

I held her softly wrinkled hand

beside her bed.

She said,

"I see a man..."

(Her eyes were quite clearly closed.)

"He has a face marked

with a mountainous ravine;

chasms never to be seen,

and sunlight shines

from the other side."

Her words made no sense to me.

"Who is the man you're seeing?

Do you know him by name?"

"No", she said, "But...

I know him all the same.

His hands are lit a fiery red

He said he came unto my bed

to wish me luck for the other side

his fiery arms spread open wide.

Not the best looking soul,

I might add

but he does have the same eyes

as your Grandad

...sparkling like the ocean blue,

and smiling at me now, too."

"Do you think it's Death?", I suggested

immediately knowing

my words sounded odd

She sat a while;

a little nod.

"I'm cold", she whispered.

She sat there then

and said no more

until 

"Dear, knocking at this door

is an aura bathed in hot white

to catch my last breath tonight.

This my dear, is Death, you see.

He has come to escort me.

He's not like I thought he'd be." 

Quietly now, her hand relaxed.

Her face smoothed

and with a final sigh,

the corners of her mouth lifted

and she smiled goodbye.