Shady Shuffler
He’s quite the shady shuffler,
Shuffling cards all night,
A spade, a club, a bleeding heart,
A sign he’ll do all right,
A diamond is the priceless one,
His luck is with him now,
He bets the pot, no turning back,
A flush he will avow,
A bluff is in the offing,
His eyes stray left and right,
A steady hand and level gaze,
Gives off an air of might,
Some say it’s just a game,
Some say its more like life,
No matter what you think,
A loss cuts like a knife,
A knife honed sharp, without regard,
A sleight of hand with bite
Cards and life are fraught with risk,
Beware the fearsome sight,
Of the shuffler in the night.
A perfect follow up to a good game of Golf! Love, Maureen
ReplyDeleteIndeed. I will always think of our trip when I read this poem. xoxo
ReplyDeleteGreat poem and I can just imagine the players shuffling those shady cards.
ReplyDeleteLove to the late night shufflers!
Thanks, Judy. This poem was inspired by something Carl said the other night. Shady shuffler stuck in my mind and a poem was born. I'm glad you liked it.
ReplyDelete