Encounters of a stranger

I think the poem explains enough.

The leaves whispered softly of sacred things –

The sunset, chilled to perfection, grinned knowingly.

You had no idea what hidden knowledge the sun held –

Ask the vodka, he spoke softly.

Time escaped as morning faded away;

Scratches and borrowed passion,

Damning marks and illusions of future that won’t come,

Were all that remained.

Soon the sun slowly returned to the sky,

That stupid smile still present –

Bottles littered the floor,

His empty cigarette boxes covered the table.

So on that boulevard of sinners,

You let him go – you let him does he pleased.

Upon that avenue of sorrows,

He secretly stole away your safety –

Today you can do nothing but frown.

Sitting on that chair – nestled on Late Night Lane –

He did away with simple pleasures in the gleam

Gleam of his beautiful face.

Author's Note

Review please