A Winecoff Poem
Chet Wallace |
My
Love Lost
by
Chet Wallace
My
love made a trip.
She
hoped to escape.
No
bye from her lips.
No
hand on my nape.
Destination
was a city,
A
Phoenix from the ashes.
That
city went through pity,
None
from her would trash it.
She
made it to a hotel,
Winecoff
was her name.
She
made sure I not tell.
Infidelity
was her aim.
She
went to a tea room,
Francis
Virginia was her name.
Her
thought was to bloom,
A
relationship just the same.
Her
letter was written to me,
Telling
what she did.
The
man she went to see,
Unknown
to me and hid.
The
night was full of dread,
For
fire was the cause.
Many
asleep were dead,
Because
of gamblin’ outlaws.
She
died as others did,
No
chance to avoid.
A
trip that I forbid,
She
surely enjoyed.
Now
I’m without my love,
Never
seen again.
She
fit me like a glove,
My love lost, amen.
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