The Summer Summit

The Summit of Summer comes;
Trouble is brewing for The Western Front.

Like a witch’s cauldron bubbling over; foul language and noxious loners.

It’s up to us first,
Muster courage, roll the dice,
Lose the North Atlantic order.

By: Paul L.


About Paul L.

Practitioner of Prosody. Most of the poems are works in progress. I’m a perfectionist. My observations are generally my opinions and the rest, I write for myself.
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