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~ Poetry by me ~



The Old Gallows

Beams jut black against the dusk-sky,
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


License: This poem may be freely distributed, provided it remains
unchanged, including the copyright notice and this License:

This work by Michaela Macha (www.odins-gift.com) is licensed
under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives License.

Image licensed, copyright: mheld / 123rf.com