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Nov 2016
He drives a white I've-a-complex sports car,
and wears a jersian leather jacket,
and a tough guy accent.
He ambles, bow legged,to the box office.
The ******* his arm has a kind voice
And gently lit eyes, like flickering candle light.
She ventures a question.
His dismissive tone comes harsh
to her hopeful ears.
I watch the light fade,
Like the candle is in its 7th hour,
now burning low,
and the power, is still out.
skaldspiller
Written by
skaldspiller
  651
     Winn
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