Indianola

There is a crumbling bar in an old seaport town

Salvaged boat lamps all around

It’s wooden floors are covered in sand

As always, 6 reads the clocks hands

Never no one or nothing new

Same o’ same o’ sunset hues

from the bar door, a view of the sea

to it he pleas

Oh, where o’ where is the glee?

And to the waves he prays

wash back,wash back

 

Those magic days

June 17, 2017