crumble (Remove filter)
Forced
its a far cry from Bucharest
in this dark and earthy shed,
thinks of her tearful mother
the man she's shortly to wed
draughts slice wooden walls,
rats scuttering in the hay-loft,
rubbing her hands for warmth
tells herself not to be so soft
slim candles shadow the gloom,
bloke appears in muddy boots,
shoving his wheelbarrow in a
mini-forest of sprouting ro...
Friday 11th December 2020 10:45 am
Recent Comments
Red Brick Keshner on celestial school of verse
13 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on I Know Those Who Hate The War
1 day ago
Russell Jacklin on Death of Fanny Adams
1 day ago
LEON STOLGARD on An act of kindness leads to a divine reward
1 day ago
LEON STOLGARD on Le Chat noir
1 day ago
raypool on Death of Fanny Adams
1 day ago
raypool on celestial school of verse
1 day ago
Stephen Gospage on An act of kindness leads to a divine reward
1 day ago
Stephen Gospage on June 2025
1 day ago
Tom Doolan on Here Today Gone Tomorrow
1 day ago