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Posted on June 14, 2011 at 8:36 AM

Tomsin laughs to himself. Not concerning

Others or with others, but alone, a private

Joke, not shared. He looks about him, none

Seems to have heard him laugh or if they did,

Cared. He puts out his legs beneath the table,

Lights up a cigarette. The small cafe seems busy,

Voices talk, bits of conversation hang on the air

Incomplete, foreign. He sips his drink. A girl in

A group nearby looks at him and smiles. He feels

His age, aches and pains remind him. He returns

Her smile; looks out to the sea, the warm summer

Evening coming in on the waves’ back. He holds

The cigarette between his fingers, browning his

Skin, burning flesh unpainfully. He looks back at

The girl in the group. She has long hair and bright

Eyes, fine figure and slim thighs. Look no longer,

Old man, he tells himself within, there lays the well

Walked road to ruin and age old sin. He looks away,

Sips his drink, watches the moon’s glow, the sea’s

Soft sound. He’ll take his image of her back with him

To his dingy room with his books, booze, bed, table

And chair and silently in his mind, embrace her there.

Categories: Poetry & Lyric, Terry Collett

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