Deborah Lee Pruett
Deborah Lee Pruett Poems
She hears heavy thunder,
she feels the ground shudder.
Number nine's on time,
the whistle is shrieking.
...
There is a narrow path
that beckons me each night
come leave your tiny bed,
stroll inside the pale night.
...
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I am a freelance writer. I write articles, ad copy and poems for fun.)
The Best Poem Of Deborah Lee Pruett
Muted City
There's a dark moon
in a still sky
desperate hours
slowly slip by.
Lonely street lights
change for no one
muted city
loaded shotgun.
Dirty windows
on the third floor
empty bottles
block a thin door.
Silent hallway
no foot falls near
whimpering cries
no ear can hear.
Wrinkled bed sheets
broken frame springs
battered lamp shades
two golden rings.
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4/26/2024 8:57:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
