Silver coins piled on the table <br />just enough to get him through <br />nights of sleeping in the stable <br />working daylights with the crew. <br /> <br />He had killed the great Falzini <br />fastest gunman in the west, <br />first he blew away his wienie <br />next slug hit him in the chest. <br /> <br />He would hang if they did catch him <br />though the Sheriff was a drunk, <br />and the one who could just match him <br />had been taken from his bunk. <br /> <br />Suddenly, the horses heard him, <br />sneaking in just like a thief. <br />Half asleep it briefly stired him <br />then he came to major grief. <br /> <br />Bullets from a big revolver <br />tend to shorten human lives <br />this one was a problem solver. <br />He had come to take the coins.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/silver-coins/
