a poem titled “A Siren’s Work”

life, poem, poetry, writing

in a bizarre place where she looks no better than that
a gusty place where the windows crack
in a rotten place where the windows crack

we meet eye to eye
just the quick glance of two strangers passing by
she passed me, walking straight by

this silent siren captured my heart
luring me in, baited my heart
oh my downfall, a trustworthy heart

I followed the siren down dark woodsy trails
to the old windmill so bright in it’s fails
I followed I did down twisted dark trails

she turned and grinned, her dance she’d done before
a hundred times or more
a sirens work before

-Collins

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