Member-only story
…as fast as I can
Back when the streets were dark and black and white
In alleys where old habits die screaming
Not the kind of place you might fly your kite
Nor sleep if expected to be dreaming
Almost broke from Pennsylvania she came
Hung around the thieves and penny pinch slaves
The dark borough of disrepute — ill famed
Amidst the gypsies and underground raves
She talked of potions unto willows drawn
The darkened wood, of spells cast to the world
Tethered witches dark masses before dawn
The evil, darkness, chaos — conflict whirled
Where the rose and poppy, thistle and thorn
Where wine, women and song were not yet born
Where times of olde were a legend forlorn
To one-two-five our heroine was drawn
Where all those old habits still lie screaming
The triangle, maiden, mother and crone
Back in from the cold she came from reading
Dead poets, live masters — now downtown prone
Like Venus cast from her shell now reborn
The sun in her eyes…of blue favored hues
The old habits now from which she was torn
Linger on the winds — where the man eschews
Of wizard warlock and witch — ghosts still fly
Up one-two-five, near Lexington, on high
