The trip came late
Was slow to start
Both meek of will
And weak of heart
With broken bones
And tattered spirit
The wheels met pavement
The road did hear it
Despite love long since shattered
And promises so broken
Lies told to ourselves
And dreams never once spoken
Just beyond the bend
A soul full of wonder
No more pining for high tides
To come and pull me under
About the Creator
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Belle of the Bayou
Bad move, cher. Not just the slip of her kitten heel on the rainy February cobblestones in the Fourth Ward. She got caught snooping. Detective Deleon clucked and strutted like a rooster in his rush to clear her from the scene, waving cigar smoke to and fro as he gesticulated amid the thick air of the speak easy. An experienced crime reporter, Marie knew better than to let the coppers catch her on the wrong side of the line, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.
By Maia Gadwall the metAlchemist6 days ago in Fiction
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