Duel

Fog hovered;
The sun was a distant
Dream on the horizon.
At the appointed oak they met
Pistols cleaned;
Meticulously.
Ready for something
That many only whispered about.
Ready for the last story.
Each man had dressed the part;
Shamelessly wronged.
Fighting for the same smile;
The same scent of roses and apples
In her hair as she laughed.
One would live the morning.
The better shot;
Not the better love.
As the sun rises
To burn the morning fog,
Two men lie
Bleeding.
Demanding an answer
To the question,
“why?”

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Posted on October 17, 2014, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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