Underneath the Arches

Posted on September 9, 2017 by

tramp

Don’t you love the sweet smell?

Solvent in the dark,

On a table top of despair,

With red clinking bottles,

Feeding rough stubble people:

Plum certain not to be here

In future years.

About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
This entry was posted in Poem and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Gravatar
WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s