Bubonic Plague Poem by Bridget Zitzelberger
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Bubonic Plague
Rating: ★5.0
Sickness is coming,
So many slumming.
Black Death runs like water,
No escape, that's their fate.
No more dinners served on hot steamy plates.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
Its the end of your run.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
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5/1/2024 6:59:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
'Plague' is the correct spelling Bridget