deepundergroundpoetry.com
Stove Pipe
Twilight is cold
by something frozen
giving chills without warning
dead as a mackerel
down the flue
a cold breath in the ashes
of my ghostly attire
pale in my nightcap
as the candlelight hung
and the guttersnipe sweeps
a song the phantom rung
by something frozen
giving chills without warning
dead as a mackerel
down the flue
a cold breath in the ashes
of my ghostly attire
pale in my nightcap
as the candlelight hung
and the guttersnipe sweeps
a song the phantom rung
Published 15th Jun 2022
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