A 'Sestina' it had been a good run, but, resigned, he now set his shoulders, ready to take the fall for her; a final stand; sighing, he took his turn and let the chips fall through the window, he watched the leaves fall over the meadow; no place to run; nowhere to turn; nothing for… Continue reading Down the river, or: The fall
See the typing of the writer, I think he's angry at the lighter. Once, her flame burned ever brighter, But now she will not spark. 'Twas during that game of poker, Feeling his card plays mediocre, That he threw and, sadly, broke her (And missed intended mark). He remembers her rebounding And raucous mocking jeers… Continue reading Card shark, or: Writer
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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