bobdubbloon

In Anticipation 1

06:09:43 14 Sep, 2024

In the shadows of "Potions of Ale", A stranger drinks, eyes sharp as nails. The air is thick, a rancid brew, With scents of blood and something new. The barkeep snarls, his gaze askew, He barks at guests, a foul-mouthed slew. Around the bar, the stench of rot, From spirits spilled and lives forgot. He looks for one not yet arrived, A traveler with secrets, thrice contrived. They speak of eggs that twitch and stir, Of dead men’s whispers, faint and slurred. There’s talk of farming, strange secrets kept, And of a man in black shoes who crept. She’s mentioned too, in whispers low, The one who watches where winds blow. A prophecy of dragon’s flame, A haven lost, a traveler’s name. Blackberries shroud the tale untold, In waiting, truths will soon unfold.