SMELL THE HOOD

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Dump all the cold stories
Draw a line between fair and good
The London lady calls it “antique”
Just because she feels ladies are suspects

Three crowns for the hood
Reading the surest lines
Tracing the bonds like branches
Connecting ancestors to new trends

Somebody said the hood smells like dawn
With all the rough and ghost corners
Framing the justice that houses dignity
The hood remains a home for likeminds…

©ruthspoetry 2017

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Author: I- read

This is a free blog aimed at watering poetic minds and quenching the thirst of readers. My passion for words commemorates the desires to speak the truth, interplay with emotions and voice the fights in troubled souls. Welcome to i-read..

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