A man who makes his round trips.
The Night Rider
Three times the night rider dropped by the house
And thrice has he left us alone
A fourth without welcome, my conscious aroused
At sighting of the rancid gnome
I saw in his face such a lack of emotion
And boils too many to count
With steel in his eye and swift in his motion
The night rider swung to dismount
Oh, though I had tried, I could not but observe
As he picked up each bag by the knot
With unhuman strength, threw them up with a swerve
And rode off with to bury and rot
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 688 times
Written on 2007-01-05 at 01:39
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