To the MuggerA Poem by Dan RyomaYou came from the shadow of the red brick, Hands quivering from the weight of the pistol. My face the gun kissed, my fall hysteric. I bled as you ran, my wallet a hole. Gone my proof of a life in the making, Unlike the mountainous mark I now don. Not simply money that you had taken, But single smiles of people long gone. We are the same in that we must provide, For you too may possess faces of young, And the memories of those that have died, Safe now with money from what you have done. Our short lives both made of losses and wins. Even is the web that fate ‘ever spins. © 2010 Dan RyomaFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on October 21, 2010 Last Updated on October 21, 2010 Author |