The Seven Sisters
There are no angels here todaythey've taken a liquid lunch
at a bar called The Seven Sisters
run by a man called Ron.
So all the penitent and sinner's
are running all amok.
The stone keeper's in the graveyards
are missing from their posts.
The hoodlums, the vagrants,
the vacant and the lost
are googling for a map
to find The Seven Sisters.
Ron is mopping at his brow
angels are just so demanding
telling awful jokes
and imbibing by the jug.
It only happens once or twice
or maybe thrice or even
on those certain days,
when shops are shut at 12.
So if you need an angel
just wait till half past midnight
when the Seven Sisters shuts
the street lamps are lit.
As hookey playing angels
stagger down the street
with Ron in hot pursuit,
the constabulary as well
For angels as you know
never pay their own bar tab.
Tomorrow you will find them
angelic hosts of old.
Poetry by Elle
Read 679 times
Written on 2015-04-22 at 20:16
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