deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Flying Fox
When the sun shone
He walked on the shady side of the street
He kept a white knuckle grip
Over his last marble
A grip so tight,
A book of acid couldn't shift
He fell in love with everyone
Ended up alone
In a dead man's coat
He wandered through shadows
The flying Fox
Silver thread
Beyond the road
Published 18th Oct 2024
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