poetry corner 009 – anachronism non acronym

The city, she sleeps through pouring snores, and metaphors.

Before the invention of lying, but after the invent of glass.

Flea-trap second-hand shops, and record stores.

The tyranny we’ve come intent to pass.

The River is long, the path to Bath is beaten.

Taking long walks for short waters, I thirst.

The Thames is wide, the view from either side is sweet.

And Death stalks our sons and daughters, at first.


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