The alley between the Ice Cream Parlor and the Antique Bookstore
attracted the attention of Christmas Sandor.
It was overgrown and much in need of attention.
Extending into shadows, ending in an unattended garden.
It reeked of another time, one of strife and limited pardon.
A vine-covered ticket box stood in a lefthand position.
Stepping inside the gate, Christmas saw a woman of tempting allure.
Standing on her terrace with eyes colder than he had ever seen before.
Startled by a Crow perched on the gate’s wrought iron beam,
Christmas stepped deeper into the alley’s unpleasant stroll.
A Penguin in the ticket house asked, “You here for the seven souls?”
Daring an answer, Christmas said lamely, “No, I came for the ice cream.”
The Crow squawked, “Take the souls and run before it’s too late,
If she takes you in, the count will be eight.”
-
Author:
Jerry Reynolds (
Offline) - Published: November 23rd, 2024 11:08
- Category: Fantasy
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments5
Gave me brain freeze just thinking about it .. 😉👍🐧
Thanks, Neville.
LOL and they say ice cream is bad for you! 🤣
NO! Not Ice cream too. Thanks, Teddy.
The icecream would have probably been off anyway, coming all that way from ancient Egypt......
Your write held my attention, Jerry.
Thanks, Dave.
Entertaining Jerry. A well narrated fantasy
for the readers who stop by. Liked the final stanza. All the best.
Thank you, Cassie.
Thoroughly enjoyable read, Thank you Jerry
Thanks, Tobani.
Your very welcome
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