Would it happen as it did?
The slighted mud barely dry
On our troubles, little hid
What was frayed, but some would try
And lost better times would flicker,
Tongued briefly into life, as song
Covered the betrayals. Sicker
Than we knew, each whispered wrong
Embroidered its way into a quilt
Of deceit. Soon enough the creaking chorus
Would sunder the unclear air, unbuilt
Upon. Departing twirlers of triplets and sotted whisperers
Shuddered night’s cold and shouldered the guilt
The evening laughed away; their whiskeyed legacy for us
.
Stephen A. Linstead
Picture Bryan Ledgard
.