Poetry
 
The need for speed _ Chilled mid-winter crisp night air cascades in a moonlit fogged waterfall off the tablelands. Blokes, five in a row, grey on grey, walk slated mutta slow, so slow they risk catwalks backward. Thempla J walk abbott on shields staccato beat, pockets full of hands, hoodies full of heads. Culture trapped on such a night doesn’t make much sense, such is the need for girlfriends with swift feet. - O - © 9th july 2014 _ Ian James Daniel
This is the ENDEAVOUR AGENCIES poetry site. All verse is intended to promote discussion and bring enjoyment to the reader. no rhyme scheme _ 11 syllables / line.
author’s notes _