The stains upon the bar
tell of many sad tales
of love, loss and tragic lives;
and drink to drown out the wails.
Another washed out soul
seeks the solace of the glass,
to wash away the memory
of another broken pass.
Another wheeler-dealer,
another gambling god,
another weary player
bet his life upon the sod.
The rings around his eyes
mark the toll of tell tale signs,
the vacant stare, unshaven chin,
you read between the lines.
Just one more shot to dull the sting
of a life that’s breaking down,
another drink to hide the lines
of another washed out frown.
He staggers out
onto harsh lit streets,
head gently spinning
on unsteady feet.
He knows that it’s near,
he can hear the call,
just over the road
and down past the mall.
Shuffling along
with an unsteady gait,
cell phone ringing,
who cares, it can wait.
Eyes now blind
behind stinging tears
but it’s not enough
to allay his fears.
And there it is
in a hazy dream,
a small footbridge
over a lazy stream.
He grips the rails
with trembling hands,
there’s no point telling her,
she won’t understand.
Then just for a moment
he catches a glimpse
in the soft flowing waters
and it makes him wince,
for the wretch that he sees
is not the man that he knows;
there’s a stranger staring back
from dark waters below.
With a shuddering sigh
and with tears streaming down,
he’s leaning over;
feet leaving the ground.
For a moment he’s flying,
so alive and so free,
he’s no longer afraid,
just a strange kind of glee.
He doesn’t feel the water
as it closes overhead,
he doesn’t feel the chill
for his soul has already fled.
Written by Darren Scanlon, 25th November 2013.
Revised 12th July 2015.
© 2013 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
