“Known for a thousand steals,
For a million deals
And Bordeaux of gold.
Dreaded for poison wine,
For every Red sign
And a crooked soul.
On every shattered,
Broken frame.
Daringly writing name,
of my own.
You'll know, if I played a role.
And she got her tea
from the old brewery,
Her withered Merlot.
She cooked up Oleander.
Mythical mornings dear,
Behind the savvy door.
With every lantern,
holy grace.
The smile sheathing your face
was your sorrow.
You'll know, if I played a role.”
***
[26 March 2021; 6:15 pm]