~ Poetry by me ~
Gallows
Beams jut black against the dusk,
dead wood old and weather-worn;
gone the noose, but after nightfall
shadows dangle in the dark.
Fey is he who fares below it;
high above his hapless head
ghostly echoes loom in hunger,
lurkers waiting to be fed.
© 2005 Michaela Macha
- This poem is in the
Common Domain and may be freely distributed
provided it remains unchanged, including copyright notice and this
License -