Wednesday, April 4, 2012


6) c) You place my hand on top of yours and still
I race; sigh, not so for my coming death,
For I bought my life with gunman's hands. Fill
Now your smile, vice bids me pay my health
For chores I did carry out three years gone,
And bore me not with worry and sorrow!
What I sow has now come back, tomorrow
Shall I depart from you, for I've not will
To live; ramparts of desert trails now mill
About in the corners of my mind, and
I shall blaze them err the sun doth set down.
Do not face then my departure so bland,
But rejoice and spur me on! I am bound
By my choice to die, to seek out new towns.

                                                                    Gunman, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

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