PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Fate arrived on a greyhound bus pallid and unsmiling.
Clutching a worn leather coat in her spindly arm,
grasping for my hand in the other.
  I joked about her Boreal hands and she lead me
to the waiting taxi in a knowing fashion.
     Handing the driver
       (jovial and greying at the ears)
         a rumpled twenty
     instructing to "just drive"
         and our destination.
    He laughed uneasily and wound his
    faithful steed through rush hour traffic.
        Letting us out he implored:
     "Don't kill the one who loves you the most."
      Fate howled crunching leaves underfoot.
     To this day I am not sure
          if it was a laugh
               or a cry.