Gunner pulls the one-armed bandit
to see what his future holds.
The machine reveals his fate
and writes his failure in stone.
He’s out in the wintry cold,
where the drifting snow steals his sight.
He’s without a healing agent;
Nothing will make this right.
Gunner’s spirit is defeated
by the shame that besets him.
Tears slide down his crimson face;
He knows he’s done himself in.
He never meant to hurt loved ones;
He had good intentions.
But his underhand affairs
is what cost him in the end.
(March 23,2007)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yeah i like this ramble gambler