Posted by: Ron DuBour | November 1, 2015

Cross the Bridge~by Karen King


 

 

Cross the Bridge

 

He crossed the bridge,
The man of bones,
To his new home,
For which he’d roamed.
He didn’t need a comb and
He didn’t need a phone,
Because he wasn’t alone.
Next to him was a corpse crone!

He felt exposed to the sun,
This skeleton of one,
What had he done?
Life was no longer fun!
His heart had never been won.
His chance lost, for he was killed by a gun…

Lost and roaming until he reached the toll gate,
At the start of the bridge, where he’d had to wait
For so long to cross, but now he was late!
Now he and the corpse crone cross towards the hands of fate.

“Love Life” Venetia Venus Copyright 31 October 2015


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