Road Musician

He's an aging road musician,
Still playing his guitar;
His fingers gnarled and stiffened.
Too late to be a star.

He's restless and he's rootless;
He'll never settle down.
The road goes on forever,
From town to dreary town.

He sleeps in cheap motel rooms,
And eats his meals alone.
It's been that way for years now,
And time has simply flown.

He's had his share of romance,
But that's all in the past.
He rarely thinks about it;
Love wasn't meant to last.

He doesn't write new songs now;
He sticks with what he's got.
Resigned to where fate led him —
Accepting of his lot.

Copyright © Robert Haigh 2020

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A Wishful Visit


I've been expecting you

Far too long, I must say

Please do come in

It's a bit chilly in here

Dusty and bleak

But a home's a home

After all


I'm ready

There's no better time

For your delightful visit

The rain's still pouring outside

It's so loud I can't hear

The dreadful sound of my voice

But surely you understand me


After you.

I'm willing to follow you

For you musn't fear I'll run away

Or escape your captivity

I'm entirely yours

For the rest of eternity

Have no doubt

That I will go where you take me


You're more bland

And quiet

Than what I imagined

But it doesn't matter

You're finally here

Take me with you


Don't make me beg


And without even leaving the room,

I'm gone,

Leaving a vast vacancy in my body

As my soul

Flees from its carnal entrapments



And its beauties--

Consumes me.

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never having climbed too far
she hadn't far to fall ...
the choices were not easy ones
with her back against the wall ~

the steady sound of water drips
was all that she could hear …
their ever rising levels
added fuel to her fears ~

she couldn’t jump – she couldn’t stay
she knew she’d die here either way …
with arms uplifted, clutching air
her final debt was paid.

may she rest in peace.

© Debbie Finlay

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