folding time

She sold her thoughts for playing cards, 
 and macramé, and rum, 
 then skated on a thousand hopes 
 that never quite reached one. 

He asked her, by river's peace, 
 if he could somehow aid her,  
 but she on folding time had come, 
 a shieldless, lost 

 crusader

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

Leave a Reply