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Midnight Pub

At the Gallows

~yvonne

At the Gallows, limped flower

Growing, golden

In her eye

Freely flowing, nightly, shiver

Copper rotting

Tears of silver

Blackened bite, the breath is bitter

Deep below

The shoals of lye

Bare, beyond a languid visage

Dogged land

And labile sky

- - - - - -

"Bourbon straight, babe. Yes - thanks."

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Replies

~woland wrote:

well written

~tracker wrote:

Tracker looks over from his seat by the fireplace and claps. "Well done!"

~tatterdemalion wrote:

Nicely done!

~petpave wrote (thread):

Welcome here 😉