the lights go down low,
as the music starts to
trickle into your ears
real slow,
and your mouth gets dry,
as you let out a sigh,
watching the boy turn
to the girl, and you
know both of them
know that from this
sad, quiet moment,
only the flowers of
melancholy memory
sprout and grow -
the ones that are
gone the next morning
when you wake up -
still, the scene never
stops playing: it's
the world's longest
running show, the
one that ends,
well,
you know.
October 25, 2011.
Copyright © 2011, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
