Get Your Premium Membership

Blood On The Leaves

Blood on the Leaves

It makes me sad
To think, then mad
To be associated with them,
only by color.
You play us like they judged that man.
The blood on the leaves;
Warm and full of life.
Don’t put that on me, Ricky Bobby.

We lost someone today.
Sad is all this is,
Pushing us 100 years in the past.
I can’t imagine that town’s shame.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.