Old and Devilish

I hid from you,

Buried in the peat.

‘Twas murder, true,

hidden in the deep

If you stand so,

lean against the tree,

You’ll see the shock

of red hair beneath.

The first of me,

foretold, fateful day;

the worst of me

certainly fell prey

to the ghostly,

old and devilish,

looking-dry-me,

Share the peat?

You wish.


© CGT, 2017.

Talk to me.