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Encounter

In his hand I saw the gun
Black and shiny bright
It was a pistol, very small
It gleamed from the street light

The gun was pretty as it shone
Pretty, black and cold
I heard as words were said to me
And did as I was told

I never saw his face at all
The gun drew in all light
I turned and heard a metal click
Then silence, in the night.

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Copyright © 2015 - 2017 by Talia Russell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical means without written permission of the author.

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