Dirge of midnight slowly crawls
from tiny feet the floorboards creak;
the air’s gone stale in moldy halls.
from down below a hollow shriek,
the night is dark; your future’s bleak;
you’re left inside the prison walls;
will it ever end, this working week?
A rhyming quadrille for Grace at dVerse. As usual 44 words, and you have to include the word creak (not creek). Join us at 9 PM CET.
October 23 2017