Enjoy it, Before it goes

The worling world of darkness should never be feared, but excepted.

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3. Lovely New London

New London,

Was a city less known,

No flashy lights,

No skyscrapers,

No busy streets,

It was slow moving,

And that's the way the people liked it.

It was quiet,

always at ease,

The people there were never in much hurry,

Drove slow down the roads,

Like everyday was Sunday.

Everyone there was friendly,

Oh so polite,

For when there were travelers,

They were taken in,

And treated like kings.

Now this town may sound nice,

It may sound harmless,

But like every small forgotten thing,

There was a secret,

And this town very much had a secret.

The secret was more like a myth,

About the old building in the center of town,

It had been there for almost a hundred,

Holding much history.

It was once an Inn,

The Red Rose Inn,

And some believe George Washington had stayed there,

That it had secret tunnels below,

For the under grown rail road,

Connecting to a house across the street,

But the myth is much worse,

Much more dark,

It goes like this.

A young girl was murdered at the Red Rose Inn,

And her farther was hung,

In the big oak tree in the front of the inn,

For he everyone beloved was the murder,

But they were wrong for the blood bath continued,

The man was then finally captured,

And hung in the big oak tree.

People have been said to see the girl,

Head her scream,

And see two bodies swaying in the big oak tree.

But the little old town of New London,

Stays at peace,

Living there simple lives,

And letting the Red Rose Inn rot,

For the myth is known,

And the tunnels are vacant,

George Washington is dead,

And there history lies deep in the Red Rose Inn,

Where the people want it to stay,

So no peace will ever be disturbed.

(This poem in based off my true home town were the Red Rose Inn and the Myth behind it is true and still stands.)

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