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At the Water Hole |
| Written by Sharon Chance | |
| Sunday, 13 April 2008 | |
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Share it:      At the Water Hole
She danced alone Under the blue haze of neon Swaying to the music, eyes closed Dancing with the past Letting the rhythm guide her To happier days
He watched her from the stage Taking in skin tight pants, low-cut top And thought she probably had been pretty, long ago. Through the smoke and darkness She maintained an air of mystery A faded rose, tinged with loneliness
His fingers pulled notes from his guitar As tired and familiar as he, Once bright and shining, with no where to go but up, Now he slouched in front of a mic, singing songs No one really heard anymore, Chasing the pain away with another bottle of beer.
He felt her need wafting across the room As unaware, she undulated to his music He caught her eye as she glanced up And in that second she returned to the present Shyly brushing her tarnished hair from her eyes She smiled that smile That held the message and answer They both knew so well.
Neither one would be alone tonight Tomorrow would dawn hard and mean But for a few hours They would find comfort in tired bodies, fractured minds.
Copyright 2008 Sharon Chance |
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