Across his face crawled a fly, not a batting of the eye
You could hear skin crack when his jaw went slack
A string his tongue on a base fiddle strung
In voice calm he spoke that drifted into a bullfrog croak
Through dead air his tone etched exposed bone
Ice cracked, words unpacked
You're granted permission my daughter to marry
But if you harm her no one will find where your body I did burry
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: September 26th, 2026 03:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)
Online)
Comments1
Loved this my friend, a Fav
Thanks very much my friend for your attention and comment it means a lot.
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