Underneath the Tallahassee Bridge

I could not
Recognize his voice,
When I made this choice,
To sell my soul to the devil
I suppose, he wears the right clothes
We met underneath the Tallahassee Bridge
He plays a mean red fiddle, with a whiskey smile
With an Irish Jig, we dance down this road of life and death
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace