Nothing stirred, not a spoon,
As Amy turned the light on.
As cold as stone sat Bet and June,
In their living room in Brighton.
The table set for tea for two,
Two for tea, delicious.
But this was a deadly brew.
Deadly, not nutritious.
The sisters' poison took its time,
By all accounts an hour.
On their lips, an awful slime,
Their faces white as flour.
Her aunties dead, did Amy weep!
Her tears ran cold and bitter.
For no-one would come as cheap
As these two babysitters.
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2 days ago
3 comments:
I quite like that.
Thanks.
You're welcome.
I found this Poem very interresting as i know a hag called Beryl Amy
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