Vegas by Dyetman

When we danced underneath the Paschal moon,
I asked her name. Vegas, she said sincere.
With a convicting smile her face was strewn;
I held ten grand when she became my fear.

Seduced, I uttered against games of chance—
reluctant, she smiled; all I seen were lips.
I'm no casino, she said, Let us dance.
Merit was lacking, she read from a script.

Read the entire poem

(C) DannYetman

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