From the slinky slank
I drank
Upon a meadow of reds
That stank
Within my time of highs
And lows
And across the bounty
Of lands unknown

Here is me
Alive and well
Having drank from,
a mortals hell

Where goblins and ghosts
Of hi-times gone-by
Rest within a restless mind

From the slinky slank I drank
Makes no difference if twice I thank
Twas time to slip across the moss
Of life’s bold tries, often loss

From the slinky slank I drank
Regrets of few, of this, I think
Come join me at, the slinky slank

This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.