The island bar
Not far from home
Most nights I’m here
I sit alone.

The waitress brings
An ice cold brew
I sit here thinking
Thoughts of you.

The fishing boats
Pass on by
Their nets stretched out
For them to dry.

The jukebox plays
Our favorite song
I wonder why
It all went wrong.

The sweat runs down
Upon my face
There’s no A/C
Inside this place.

The ceiling fan
Blows warm salt air
I sit alone
Alone and stare.

I can’t let go
Of memories
They won’t let go
Let go of me.

So many years
I’ve spent this way
Waiting and wishing
You had stayed.

A shot of “Jack”
Before I go
One for the road
I can’t say, no.

Two local gals
Sit at the bar
They drive me home
It’s not that far.

No ocean breeze
The bay so still
I’ve had enough
I’ve had my fill.


Image from Google Images:

Author: Patty Richardson

Writer: Film scripts, poetry, short stories.

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