Poetry · Writing

Fables

She ran out of luck,

down on it, they told her

not to venture under

the bridge it lived

she has arrived

 

yet, feeling short-lived.

The beast snarled close,

arose from the depths

knows no riddle for her

to yield the green grass

 

on the other side. No one

bigger than her behind

no horns to sway his behind

stranded on a wasteland

looking in on paradise.

 

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