Three fingers of Johnnie walker

June poetry number sixteen.

                        Three fingers of the Johnnie Walker.

He went back to Aberdeenshire in the Fall of his life. He found a place to drink and to watch the sea. He wrote in his notebook. Only the good die young and I am too old to die young. I lived a soldier life and mistress love wasn't my blessing.

The poet requested three fingers of the Johnnie Walker whiskey. It was early Springtime in Scotland and he remembered his April love who was far away from his life and her thoughts. She was a auburn hair Scottish gal with rose-colored cheeks and a smile of gold. She became his Bonny Lass in the early Spring of 1988 and she left him in the cold days of Winter. He remembered she would seek the wildflowers field. She would dance barefoot and she would laugh. She loved when the sea kissed her feet and she loved him so.

He played truth and dare with love. He broke her heart and he damned his soul. Now the warm days of Spring are abounded. He wanted his feet to touch the soil of Scotland and to drink to his Bonny Lass.

He raised the first finger to the sky. He told no-one. To my Bonnie girl, so far away from me. I hope you found a true love to make you smile every day of your life. I love you still. He drank the whiskey down and he reached for another.

He raised the second finger of the Johnnie Walker and he told the silence. To the nightingale song , the haunting song of things in the lost and found of life. He remember her beautiful voice telling him. I forgive you Johnnie. Please try to be happy. I told her, I cannot forgive myself. He drank the whiskey down and he reached for the last one.

He raised the third finger of whiskey to the sky. He whispered to the sea in view. Thank you beautiful Sheena for teaching me the lullaby of love. You taught me the footpath of love is rare and sweet. Only found and touched by the lucky and the brave. I was neither. He drank the last finger of the Johnnie walker and he told the face in the mirror. You cannot take-back the sins of yesterday. Just the poet's ghostly sins to paper.

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Neville]

I dare anyone to try and pack more emotion into a page of prose than you have managed here Coyote .. And as far as I'm concerned, 'Three Fingers of Johnnie Walker' delivers the kind of knockout punch we all crave to read and to enjoy ......... indeed, I can not imagine anything better than to have your tale of love lost and subsequent lament read aloud while sitting round a campfire by the side of some Scottish loch .. surrounded by friends of course .. a good sleeping bag and a spare bottle of JW ... Oh' and plenty of mosquito spray .. :)

Neville

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree Neville. Sam here in Michigan. Need the mosquito spray. Thank you for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.

[Neville]

my pleasure Coyote

[Robert Trakofler]

a lofty languish of love and lament of loss... but not lost my friend, not lost

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Robert for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.

[lightsong]

bittersweet memories that will always be an inspiration. You have so much to write about from your life my friend, your journeys, your experiences, your wisdom, your imaginations and dreams, your poetic talent with words comes from a sincere source inside You. another enjoyable piece to read, Thank You for sharing my friend.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you my friend. The bittersweet memories. The writer's wealth or burden.

[lightsong]

both my friend :) and You are certainly welcome.