Beauty Salon
There is a pub next door to a beauty salon,
On the main street of our town.
Men go there to drink.
All day and every day.
Next door to a beauty salon
On the main street of our town.
He stands,unsteady in the doorway
Pulling on the remains of a roll up cigarrette.
Lungs,already weak,inhaling right down to the last ash
.
Unkempt,unshaven,his eyes unsteady stare at nothing.
No longer believing in life, love or that tomorrow,
next week or year will be better.
Unlike the young girls, beaming with life,
sitting inside the beauty salon,next door to the pub,
On the main street of our town.
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