Black Market
No drops for my wheel,
The heat I feel
For the haze that hovers the tank - holds the flow
At this time - all is slow
I'm bereft of drink,
As there's a steep hike
With a fleet of legs on the street
A trade we meet.
Bargains under the shade forgone-
For transactions under the sun.
They look on as the sale goes-
Them they can make no foes
Back door business stays on the rise-
While our morals of it take their dives
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
