Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2013
I met a seer at the bingo hall who seemed to know the number of every ball before it rose up that perspex tube.
It is dubious sort of man who can predict four corners or a line and then have time to prophesize about what prize he's going to get.
I bet he was such fun to know before he felt he had to go and spoil my day.
And I don't like bingo anyway.
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems