Swan
Usual suspects, usual jokes
Usual banter, usual pokes
Mates forever, friends for a time
Band plays their favourites
And feelings they mime.
Swan glides in and rests on a seat,
Regal and classy-to them she's fresh meat,
Colour has come to their black and white screen
They smile and look friendly but she knows what they mean.
She has saved three months for the dress that she owns
But the vultures around want to pick at her bones
She wants a connection, she's looking for more
But she's come in alone, she must be a whore.
The men have escaped from the kids and the wives,
Three or four pints and they live different lives,
The drink makes them think they are sex on a stick
But the swan only smiles and thinks 'yet one more prick'.
She knows she won't meet him in this type of place
She knows in her heart his mind and his face
But while she's still waiting she'll fill up her time
With music and laughter and feelings they mime.
Copyright © Alison Dey | Year Posted 2008
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