The Unexpected
The gauntlet run I stop dead, astounded.
How can the dreaded deal have been done?
Songs sung low by thin, wispy, wire lips
Carry the melody of my demise.
Copyright © Paul Stacey | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment