Poetry

Outlaw (#545)

In walks a shadowy stranger,
An immediate sense of danger,

Who is he and why is he here?
His steel gaze instills such fear,

A gun, still warm, rests at his side,
People near him scuttle and hide,

Black brimmed hat and an overcoat,
Stubble on his cheeks and throat,

Leather skin darkened by the sun,
His hand never far from his gun,

Everyone was scared to even blink,
In a gravel growl “Bartender. Drink!”,

The bartender while shaking obeyed,
He wasn’t concerned about being paid,

This was a man destined for the rope,
That or the target of a rifle’s scope,

Any Thoughts?

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